#I'm being deprived of eddie content | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

belokhvostikova · 6 months

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𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | What was supposed to be a summer vacation to your boyfriend's hometown, turned into God's greatest test of morality against you. In other words, you basically fuck your boyfriend's best friend, Eddie Munson.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, mention of alcohol, drug use, jealousy, possessiveness, small violence, a threat of murder (little yandere, but not really-ish, I don't know, to be honest), slightly dark (I think, right? Maybe?) cheating, and explicit sexual content: fondling, spitting, dom/sub dynamic, name calling, degradation/praise kink, finger sucking, nipple play, face slapping, pussy slapping, masturbation (male, but of female), fingering, handjob, cum eating, squirting, and unprotected vaginal sex.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I... don't know what this is. Just take, goddamn it, there, take me for all I'm worth! Do I condone cheating? No. But did this idea make me really horny? Yes. And he's a little mean, so be warned.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

Sometimes… you wished he’d never spoken those words.

When two weeks into his summer vacation in Hawkins, Indiana was enough time spent away from the debilitating semesters of university to have his newfound room—proffered by the closest of a distant family member, because two months with the folks would just be too much—smelling of the fresh cologne of clean air and washed linen; the smell that warmed you with the loving memories of ten months of sweet kisses and heavenly whispers.

When his navy blue comforter wrinkled under the weight of tussling bodies, because in those mere two weeks—his half in Hawkins, yours in Indianapolis—both hearts ached for the touch of one another, and he refused to deprive himself from the physical contact of his love, you. Crushing kisses, trailing hands, and connecting bodies to commemorate the rising sun, because a town miles away from the bustling city of beeping traffic and screaming pedestrians left room for the morning songs of the Northern Cardinal.

When the exhaustion of a two hour journey through cornfields and even smaller towns guided you to the place where he relished you in the memories of his boyhood; swing sets on the playground, the arcade after homework, Tuesday performances at the Hideout. Such memories came to life for you when the aluminum stock sign welcomed you into Hawkins. Sore from stiffness, your limbs crashed into the embrace of your lover, where your first night in the cursed town consisted of fucking the Friday night darkness away, until bodies glowed under the welcoming sun of the Saturday morning, where dewy grass freshened the air in contrast to the concrete slabs of cracked busy sidewalks you grew up on.

But then… he spoke those words.

When a stroking thumb against the hairs of your brow elicited the tired whine from your mouth, as you nuzzled your face into his naked chest to shield you from the burning sunshine pouring from the basement window. Your eyes woke to his dozy lips, chapped with pinched corners to show off the crookedness of his teeth that brought such beautiful character to his soul. Puffs of morning breath warmed your somnolent face with his morning greeting.

“I know I’ve told you this like a million times,” he croaked, “but I really am so happy that you’re here. With me.” His heavy hand landed on the apple of cheek to encourage your growing smile. “Can’t wait to show you around, can’t wait for you to meet my friends- the guys.”

Now, a new cologne of ashy darkwood and burning spices tarnished the content bubble of ten months of sweet kisses and heavenly whispers with groping handfuls and filthy intimacy. An anxious pit of guilty dread now eats you alive when the musk of his igniting cigarettes invades your being, but how can you think of such worrisome, when it’s the same scent that has your face torching with flames of desire and heart fluttering with anticipation for a new love- a different kind of love?

Other times… you are happy that he spoke those words.

Because it led you to Eddie Munson.

Her diamond scintillated, shoved in your face by her persistent eagerness to show off the glowing ring that beamed under strobe lights of greens and reds that twirled from the tiny disco ball. Eric Marcher, who couldn’t give you anything more than a nod of acknowledgement when introduced—despite his intimate hand clasp and hug combo with your boyfriend, had been detailed to you as the man needed when small town goers were itching for party favors. Now, in the cul-de-sac of Mirkwood, a lively get-together of strangers, like Cheryl “soon-to-be-Levison” Daniels, bombarded you with the overwhelming hospitality of detailing their personal life to the woman who snagged Braun Peterson.

A large smile matched that of her ring, beaming with a boastfulness of pride for fulfilling that suburban wife “dream” role, but you couldn’t blame her. A fat rock rested upon her finger to symbolize her everlasting love with her partner? Hell, you’d shove it in other people’s faces, as well. “It belonged to Nana Leslie before Oliver got it with her blessing. See, my daddy was never able to give it to my momma, because well, Nana never liked her,” you met her seven minutes ago, “but, anyways, it’s been in the family for two generations, and now it’s mine!”

“Oh, wow.” You liked her and her family drama. Your hands maneuvered to twist her finger, watching how beautifully the jewelry captured the light.

“I mean, it was kinda rash, ya’know, with the war and whatnot.” Her Midwestern accent sang. “Oliver wanted to tie the knot before his deployment, but I was not about to do it in City Hall. Though, he did promise me a big wedding when he comes back from Iraq.” She longingly sighed, as you nodded along. “Ya’know, something that doesn’t involve a smelly courthouse. “What about you?”

You chuckled. “What about me?”

“Have you and Braun discussed when you’d be getting married?”

You nearly choked on your drink despite not even having one. “Oh.” Quite the response to offer. “We’re, um, not exactly there yet. I mean, we haven’t even been dating for a year.” You awkwardly laughed.

“Well, you don’t wanna wait too long!” Cheryl huffed out an airy laugh. “It’s like, when ya’know you know, ya’know?” Her attempt to philosophize the concept of love left your head nodding along to move the conversation, but Cheryl “soon-to-be-Levison” Daniels surely had to knack to keep talking. “And don’t you know?”

Do you know? “Um-”

“Would you quit harassing my girlfriend?” A familiar hand squeezed your shoulder, before the presence of Braun Peterson came from behind the couch, where he bent down to smile at you.

“I am not harassing your girlfriend.” Cheryl scoffed. “And come on, I’ve been your best friend since we were babies! I know you! And I know you always talked about getting married!” She sternly punctuated. “I mean, it’s literally what made you cuter than the rest of the boys on the playground.”

Braun derided. “Okay, first of all, we were never best friends, I just had to endure being in the same grade as you.” You both chuckled, as Cheryl dramatically gasped. “And secondly, in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m not a seven-year-old that’s desperate to propose to any girl who was willing to push me on the swingset.”

“Oh!” You piqued his interest. “I happen to be a great companion on the swingset, I’d love to join you.” You sweetly beamed, an endearing feature that had him devastatingly blushing with love.

“Yeah?” He whispered in your face, where you met his question with a nod, reeling him in for a kiss.

“Ugh, see!” Cheryl’s voice had you separating with a hot face. “Marriage material! At least a proposal by the first year mark.” Her brows teased, forcing him to laugh in disbelief.

But Braun Peterson smiled, nonetheless, and your throat had constricted. While the idea of marrying your first serious boyfriend wasn’t the most unsettling notion, the reality of it coming faster than anticipated from the opinions of those closest to him, who unfortunately were raised in the small town mindset of a white picket fence before the age of twenty-five, had your tummy swirling with queasiness. Freshly out of university, the last thing you needed was a ring waying you down by a man whose loud chewing you were still trying to adjust to. A proposal in two months was not in schedule.

Because dinner was on Saturday. Meeting the parents was next Wednesday. Niece’s birthday party in two weeks. At least three years of dating before moving in. The fourth year, an engagement. The fifth, a wedding. Children? Somewhere long after.

Strict? Maybe. But perfect in your mind of precision? Absolutely.

“Um, could you get me something to drink?” You interrupted the possibility of any more talks of the future. “I just have to, uh, run to the bathroom real quick.”

His hand rubbed down your back so perfectly, calming the nerves that festered in your stomach. “Absolutely.” He assured you, as always. “I’ll find us something to eat, too, baby.”

So perfect, so perfect.

Your legs had guided you away from the living room before you could muster a brief goodbye. Maneuvering around shifting bodies, you found yourself counting the steps of the staircase, feeling the utter disappointment when the last steps came out in odd numbers, but the bathroom was two doors down, and the last thing you needed was to obtain tunnel vision from the minor details that didn’t fit your standards of life.

A knock to the wooden door with a silent response lifted the weight off your shoulders, permitting you to open the door and finally receive some peace. But the breath that nested in your throat lost its chance to be of relief, when a presence carried over from behind you, shoving you into the bathroom, with a determined slam to the door.

A rough hand muffled any of your attempts to yell out, but your stiffened body had luckily learned to vaguely relax when the man behind you turned you against the bathroom counter, and you came face-to-face with someone who familiarly made your body shudder under his stare.

His hands moved to grip the porcelain of the sink on either sides of you. “Eddie…” You gulped, as your chest heaved. “God, y-you scared, um, I- is s-something wrong?”

“You’re making quite the impression out there, aren’t ya?” His lip barely curled into a smile, as he stared down at you. “Everyone just fucking loves you, don’t they?”

You refused to meet his eye, trying to move from the caging of his arms, but his persistence left you trapped. “Um,” you sighed, “y-yeah, all your friends are nice-”

“Oh, no, sweetheart, they aren’t my friends.” He spoke so dauntingly. “They’re your boyfriend’s friends, remember? Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “um, I should go, Eddie. I need to leave.”

“No, you fucking don’t.” He deeply chuckled, finding amusement in the panicked look of your face. “You just got here.”

“Look, Eddie, I don’t know what you’re trying to do-”

“Me?” He scoffed. “I’m not tryna do anything, you’re the one that fucking started it.” His forehead forcefully pressed against yours, shoving your head back so you’d finally look him in the eye. “Remember?” He tauntingly cooed at you, getting in your face. “Remember you being a slut, and startin’ it? Because I sure fucking do.” He spat. “So don’t ask me what the fuck I’m doing, when you started it.”

Your breath heavied, as his nose ran against yours, and you squeezed your eyes shut to wield the strength to compose your anger, a hatred solely targeted to yourself. You were certain Eddie was feeding off of the visceral pounding of your heartbeat, getting off on the sheer panic of your being.

And you hated yourself for loving it.

“N-Not here.” You thickly swallowed. “Please.” Such a desperate plea, and it had him laughing in your face.

“‘Not here?’” He mocked. “I think I can have you wherever I want, no? It’s sure as hell not like you’re gonna stop me, pretty girl.” A soft kiss planted on your cheek had your eyes opening. “God, you really are so pretty, y’know that, baby? Do you know just how pretty you are?”

“Eddie…” His eyes bored into yours, piercing your desire with a burning itch that had you intoxicated on his strong scent. You watched a smirk etch onto his face, as he watched you follow the outline of his plump lips. Do it. Do it. Do it. You were screaming at yourself to just give in. Thighs clenching, heart racing, mouth salivating for the man that enticed you like no other. Your breath shuddered, as your shaky fingers delicately placed themselves against his shaven face.

Just a taste. Just a little.

You reached onto your tippy toes to feel the soft skin of his lips gently brush against yours. You were dictating this. He was letting you dictate this. Because when it all crashed, you started it, you’d be to blame. All it took was the shy kiss fueled by your hesitancy for Eddie Munson to consume what he wanted, and his tongue shoved past your teeth to ravage your taste. He had you gasping against his lips, nothing touching you but his mouth, but it felt like he was pinning you against your will.

Eddie’s knuckles blurred white from the tightening grip you had him enduring, because frustration coursed through his body, as he fought the restraints keeping him from just giving in and fucking you against the bathroom sink. A guttural growl lurched from his chest, “What are you doin’?” He smashed his lips against you. “I didn’t ask you to kiss me.” He sneered.

His comment forced a lump to be caught in your throat, urging you to push away from his chasing lips. “N-No…” Another breathless kiss smeared against you. “Stop, Eddie, we can’t-”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He interrupted with his tongue injected into your mouth. “Remember you wanted this.”

You were awful. “No!” You whined, unwilling to face the reality of your cruelness.

“Oh, but, yes, baby.” He humiliated you with his mocking tone. “Yes, remember?” He whispered into your make out. “It was you, you fucking looked at me.” Eddie scorned. “How fucking stupid are you to think I wouldn’t do somethin’ about you lookin’ at me, huh? You remember lookin’ at me?” His kisses were becoming more aggressive. “You fucking looked at me, sweetheart!” You felt the air in your lungs burn from his resistance to letting you breathe. “What the fuck do you expect me to do when you were fucking lookin’ at me like that, huh?!”

And you had been looking at him…

Three days ago, the Hideout had been an unfamiliar experience to you on the night of May 30th. It became evident as such when Mary Jane platform pumps rather distastefully met the abhorrent crunch of breaking asphalt from the gravel parking lot, where beat up cars and pick-up trucks haphazardly parked themselves with no formation, clearly lacking the etiquette for what was promised to you as a “nice” establishment. A wave of regret had drowned you in despair as you walked out of your car, immediately being met with the obscene noises coming from a drunken man nearly hacking a lung out, only to shoot his spit and mucus onto the dead bushes that once decorated the place wonderfully in the 60s. You begrudgingly passed the neglected entrance; its doors open for the sleazy, middle-aged men of Hawkins, Indiana to make themselves right at home, as they littered themselves amongst the breadth of the property, sparsely filling up tables and stools with cold beers to accompany them. A gasp of disgust had petered out of your lips, when each step you took sticky film residing on the weathered wood of the floor clung to the outsoles of your beloved heels, coating them with decades of syrupy beer that had found solace within the bar from the happy accidents that tailored the feng shui of the Hideout.

You were appalled.

It was beyond the definitions of obvious that you had overly dressed yourself for the occasion. It was at this moment, you were mentally curing Braun Peterson for providing the wrong impression, completely overselling the bar he once played in, and disregarding the lack of formality that came with the building and its loyal customers.

“Babe, it’s got a decked out bar, you can order whatever you like, trust me, my boy Johnny will whip it up, and it’s got plenty of tables for you to sit your pretty self down and enjoy the show. Not to mention, the nicest stage where you can watch me perform. It’s gonna be great, I promise!”

With a rush of worriment devouring you, you insecurely hugged your bare arms over yourself in an attempt to shield yourself from the preying eyes of unabashed stares coming from bulky men, old enough to be your father, who proclaimed themselves as regulars and patently peering to you as new meat.

Endeavoring the will to appear not so lost and clueless, you walked with your head held high, a fabricated facade of confidence, and you took refuge onto the high top table that accommodated two uncomfortable stools that shared the same layer of dust as the plastic faux wood of the table.

Yeah, you were definitely going to have it out with Braun Peterson.

Your body felt rigid, guarding yourself from potentially coming in contact with anything biohazardous, while also feeling so small from the persistent scary stares that you felt so strongly were examining your body as if you had no autonomy. And maybe you were being a bit pretentious at this moment, but given the overflow of staggering malaise that was consuming your being and clearly placing you into an uncomfortable environment, there was an absolute negative chance of actually enjoying the night, especially after you were going to dish one out to Braun.

Speaking of which, you caught sight of the slick-back, blond hair that was pursuing your way from a slim hallway that catered to the southend of the building, which presumably led backstage. “Hey, you made it!” Incompetent to your unease, Braun had merely stepped up and shoved you into a tight hug, a kiss swiftly placed onto your lips with a smacking mwah.

While he spoke so highly, clearly excited for his performance, you couldn’t fathom reciprocating his energy, immediately stating your concerns with a whine into his embrace. “What is literally wrong with you?”

Judging by your tone, anyone could have discerned the genuine disturbance from being in such situation, but ever the comedian, Braun merely chuckled. “That could be an hour long discussion, babe.” Your eyes flashed with disbelief at his choice to dismiss your evident worries.

You sighed, resisting the urge to not scream in public to cater to his comfort. “No, Braun, I’m serious. Why didn’t you tell me what kind of bar this was?” You pleaded, hoping he’d acknowledge your troubles rather than brushing them off. That was one thing you had quickly discovered from the months of making it official with Braun Peterson; he had quite the sense of humor, which wasn’t at all particularly harmful, but this “sense of humor” had a funny way of not knowing when to draw the line. The line always seemingly crossing your boundaries. But god forbid you spoke out. Last time you did, his roommate Josh asked you to quit being uptight on Braun’s behalf. “I look like I’m dining at a Michelin Star restaurant, not grabbing drinks at some middle-of-nowhere bar. Why didn’t you specify?”

You really didn’t want to cause such a confrontation on his first night back performing at the place in which he claimed was “the start of everything” for him but, my god, you were seething with irritation.

“Shit,” he huffed, understanding your worries once he took a glimpse of the perverted looks the attendees were more than glad to show off. “Look, babe, I seriously didn’t mean for this to happen-”

“You said this place was nice, Braun.”

“I know, I- I just knew you wouldn’t be into these kinda bars, but I really wanted you to come see me tonight.” He sighed. “I swear, baby,” he secured your shoulders into his hand, “I just wanted you to be here with me, b-but I screwed up. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

You heaved in defeat, seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes. He hadn’t been far off with his assumption; twenty-three years of a city setting in the upper east side, where renovated brownstones of contemporary decor were more of your liking rather than the casualness of a lonesome bar.

Your lips jutted with a mumbled “it’s okay” to pass the tension. But Braun’s hands had worked their way to the fullness of your cheeks, where his thumbs delicately swept under your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” He poured his eyes into yours. “I know it’s not your scene, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, baby.” Braun leaned in to press his lips to yours, and that loving comfort was enough to ease your body into relaxation against his hold. His hands released for the brief seconds it took to take off his leather jacket and hang it over your shoulders. “Keep this on, and if anyone bothers you or-or does something, please just tell me.” He implored. “I’ll be right on stage, only a couple feet away, I’ll see you, okay?”

Huffing a sigh, you simply nodded, choosing to come to a consensus of trying to enjoy the night. It had been close to reaching a year that you agreed to be Braun’s girlfriend, and from then, he’d been dying to show you everything about himself. Following the end of the school year from university, Braun had made plans to spend the summer back in his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana, where he had adamantly informed you about the band, the one in which he partook throughout his high school career, Corroded Coffin. And there was no denying it, the bubbling feelings of a blossoming relationship, one where your boyfriend had an actual desire to share the intimate parts of his life with, like seeing where he grew up, made you burst with excitement.

Because even with his flaws, Braun Peterson had a gentle touch that filled your heart with a promising future of blissful contentment.

“I won’t leave you out here,” his hand found its way to your thigh, “afterwards, I’ll have drinks brought backstage, where me, you, and the guys can just relax in peace. Away from these creeps.” He gripped with loving reassurance. “And- and, I promise you some of the most incredible food, okay?”

You snickered through your nose with a bit of suspicion. “From here?”

Braun laughed at your wariness. “From Benny’s Burger, got the best diner food for your pretty belly.” You arched your brow, pushing it until he gave in. “Okay, okay, Enzo’s. Seconds, thirds, all on me, baby, whatever you want.”

“Deal.” He sealed your agreement with a playful handshake.

He smiled at you, bringing a comforting hand to your neck. “Thank you, again, pretty.” His thumb caressed. “Just wanna share this experience with you. Wanna let you know how cool I was back in high school.” He teased, as you giggled. “Here, gimme kiss.”

Braun pulled you in for a sweet kiss, letting your worries wash away with his reassurement, because he always had you. “You’re gonna do great, I’m sure of it.” You smiled against him.

“Only ‘cause I have you here cheering me on.” Braun finished you off with one more kiss. “Remember, I’m only a couple feet away, I’ll come grab you once we’re done.”

With that, Braun Peterson left you to your own accord, securing the warm leather of his jacket around you, as you watched him disappear into the back. Disagreements and solutions. Compromises and sacrifices. This is what it meant for the man who cherished your time, and publicly showed it like no other. Everything was okay. Until the minutes passed of tugging on your lip with anticipation, and the staged lights dimmed.

Everything was okay.

But the center spotlight had rained against a figure, and you hadn’t even internalized the fact that a stranger physically made your body react with a gasp, as you merely took in the sight of him.

Him, who caressed his warlock, fingers teasing the strings, and lips kissing the mic with heavy pants of excitement. “Nice to see some familiar faces!” He grinned, scanning the all too familiar bar that let his amateur band of misfits play every Tuesday night; the regular bar goers seemingly flooding him with memories of his youth years. But then, his eyes landed on you. Front and center. “Even better to see some… new faces.” His lips curled into a menacing smirk, drinking up your stunning face.

Your heartbeat pummeled out of your chest, heat chewing at your cheeks, as his daunting figure had you shying away with a flush state, like you were a school girl receiving her first valentine, forcing you to wrap Braun’s jacket tighter around you.

Shit, Braun!

Quickly, your eyes diverted to the man you should have been gawking at, tuning his guitar before peering up with a smile that held all the good in the world, one he solely dedicated to you on a daily basis. You mustered a shy smile back, attempting to swallow the guilt. And this is where it should have ended. It’d be quite ignorant to dismiss the reality that attractive people come and go everyday during relationships, so this is all it was. You saw something pretty, you admired it, you left it. That’s what you promised. That’s what you committed. So you blinked yourself straight, and gave small claps of encouragement to your boyfriend.

But the eerie feedback from the mic had your head snapping to the front man, and as expected, his gaze hadn’t left your body once; a smirk devouring his face when your eyes caught his. That night, an alluring spark ignited within Eddie Munson, and he was determined to indulge in it.

“We’re gonna perform a couple songs for old times’ sake, bring some life back into you old fucks.” He jabbed comments eliciting some laughter from the crowd that watched these antsy boys torment their ears years before. “So just like back then, as always, I’m Eddie and we’re fucking Corroded Coffin!”

The thrash to his guitar introduced the blaring cords of a song, reminiscent to one Braun typically played for the background noise of when your naked bodies dreamily slapped together. The frontman’s stage performance flooded your senses as you became mesmerized by the fluid movement of his fingers abusing the delicate strings, and his husky voice yelling the lyrics to the abrasive song. He was encapsulating the beauty of metal with such ease and grace, playing his heart out for a dingy bar filled with good-for-nothing men. It felt so utterly undeserving. He was meant for a real stage.

Eddie.

That’s what it was. That’s all it fucking was. It had to be. You weren’t a bad person. You couldn’t be. The familiar tunes matching that of how Braun Peterson would rut his hips into yours was the sole reason for the tantalizing heat that was creeping within your body, not because of the man with the long hair who punctured his hungry glare against you, as he belted the grotesque lyrics of whatever song it was that you never cared to officially learn the title to. But how could you have ever found the will to learn, when Braun would consume your thoughts with the drilling of his cock to the beat of the song? Why couldn’t that be enough? Why had your hips subconsciously rolled to find some needed friction against your seat to the thought of Eddie burying his face between the warmth of your body?

Why did it feel like he was burning you alive?

The disgusting reality of your endeavor to get off on a dirty stool to another man had hit you like a ton of bricks, rightfully slapping you in the face with utter shame for who you were, and you didn’t dare to spare Eddie another glance; eyes fluttering around embarrassingly to look at anything other than Eddie.

Braun. Braun. Braun.

He was right there. He always had been.

The night dragged on for an unbearable hour, filled with the ongoing cycle of desiring something that wasn’t yours and the self-loathing hatred to follow. The burn of Eddie gaze had your body crippling with anxiety, and you engaged yourself to only peer at the man who’d brought you pure happiness for the last ten months of your life. But he was there; torturing you with his eyes that felt laser-cutting from a mile away, despite how adamant you forced yourself to refuse his attention.

You hadn’t even verbalized a word to him yet. And it was devastatingly pathetic how submissive he had you.

The last cord of the night strung out with the fellow patrons commemorating their boys for the nice trip down memory lane. You adjusted yourself to gently cheer along, feeling awful when Braun’s brightful smile had never once dropped because of your presence in the crowd. Just focus on him. It was all you had to do. As the men walked off with their equipment, Braun’s sweaty figure jumped from the stage, heading straight for you.

You immediately jumped from your seat, forgoing the complaints of him being sweaty to hold him in your arms with such fervency. “You did so great!” His hands held your back, delicate kisses pressing into the crook of your neck.

“Yeah?” He searched for your validation, only ever caring for your words, as he mumbled into your neck, inhaling your sweet smell that comforted the adrenaline high he was experiencing. “You, uh, you liked the first song I picked out?” His brows teased.

“Of course!” You cupped his face to bring him into a smearing kiss that he gladly reciprocated. You pulled away, staring into his soft eyes that held all innocence, and you cursed yourself for ever thinking of another man when such beauty was held in the palm of your hand. Your thumbs gently swept on the underside of his eyes, as he smiled down at you. “You were amazing, Braun.” You sincerely spoke. Overcompensating? Completely. But you needed him to be okay, and his happiness was worth it. “You always are so amazing, Braun.”

He brought you in for another embrace, and sealed it with a loving kiss that had you melting in his arms. “You’re pretty fucking amazing, too, Y/N.” He spoke. “C’mon, baby, let's go on back.”

“W-wait!” You steadied yourself within your position, holding his hand tightly. “Um, w-we can just stay out here, I’m sorry for getting mad earlier.”

His head dropped, lips jutting at you before he landed a quick kiss to your forehead. “Don’t apologize where you don’t need to apologize, baby.” He urged. “Don’t gotta make yourself uncomfortable for me- in fact, I won’t allow it. Not after dragging you here in the first place.”

“No, really it’s fine-”

“It’s not, baby, I don’t want you out here.” Braun persisted. “Plus, I’ve been talkin’ the guys’ ears off about you, I’m sure they’d love to put your pretty face to your name. Promise they’re not as scary as you think.”

What a fucking lie.

A journey to the back hallway led you to the chipped door, where Braun relinquished a double courtesy knock before entering the room, where a waft of sweat and cologne welcomed you to the small dressing room that held the members of Corroded Coffin. Shifting behind your boyfriend, your eyes landed around the burgundy painted walls, littered with posters of the previous self-made artist who first established themselves at the Hideout. Where they were now? More than likely not Hollywood, given the cheesy names teenagers thought were cool at the time.

“Hey, uh, guys, gained a new fan today, Y/N, this is Gareth, Jeff, and…” A polite smile to both identified men waving back to greet you was easy enough. “Where’s Ed?” Thank god.

Braun directed you to the couch, leather and torn, with its yellow foam of cushion peering from the tears after years of being broken in by body weight. “Talkin’ to Nicky out back by the stage.” Gareth had answered, as a hand towel harshly rubbed against his head to ease the dripping sweat from his frizzy curls.

“Nicky’s the bar owner.” Braun intimately informed you, graciously bringing you into the loop.

“You enjoy the show?” Jeff, with a genuine attempt at conversation, had gestured for you to engage in. Perhaps it was the blatant stiffness of your body from the wariness of sitting on the couch that surely soaked copious amounts of bodily fluids than you’d like to imagine, that got him to ask for your honest opinion. Or, the other obvious, that you clearly dress far from the usual scene that was typical for a Corroded Coffin performance at the Hideout.

Trying to atone your ignorance to the metal scene, and whatever the hell tension that was between you and the frontman, your head awkwardly nodded in response. “Yeah, um, yeah, I did.” Braun’s reassuring hand landed on your knee. “I’m still getting used to our difference in music taste,” luckily that was receptive to a couple chuckles, “but it was great seeing him, a-and you guys out there, as well.”

Heavy footsteps from the stage announced themselves as they entered the dressing room, and your body hardened at the mere sight of his shining chest, coated in his perspiration, drenching the line of hairs of his abdomen to seep into the low hanging waistline of his pants. Your eyes snapped to the wooden floors, as Braun jumped to give a brief greeting to his friend who ultimately settled against the water dispenser right in front of you.

“Ah, now that you’re all here, babe, this is Eddie; Ed, this is girlfriend, Y/N.” Already accustomed to your presence, Gareth and Jeff felt no need to weigh in another hello, which resulted in an unfortunate silence, after Eddie, himself, decided staring at you was the only formal approach.

But it wasn’t until his intentionally loud, “huh,” that pierced the silent, did your stomach drop with fear. “This is your girlfriend?” Your eyes stung at the inevitable occurrence of your boyfriend’s friend outing you in front of everyone as the girl who just couldn’t keep her eyes to herself.

Braun’s brows cinched at his question, huffing in confusion. “Why’re you sayin’ it like that?”

Eddie had quickly dismissed him with a nonchalant shake to his head. “I dunno, what’ve pictured you with a girl like Mindy, ‘s all.” What an asshole.

You knew it’d be hypocritical to suddenly interrogate your boyfriend on whoever it was Eddie was referring to, especially when it showed Eddie’s intentions were not the purest of them all with the mention of a certain ex. “The fuck, dude, no, that was nearly two years ago.” Braun quickly shut down, evidently not amused with whatever game his buddy was trying to pull.

“Relax.” He chuckled, plucking a small toothpick from the table of plattered junk food into his mouth. “Only teasin’, man, y’know me. Plus, it’s good, shows good progress on your part; movin’ from small town pretty to big city pretty.” Eddie pointed a ringed finger at you.

Braun merely rolled his eyes at the arrogant attitude he’d learned to adjust to throughout his years in high school, but when he turned to you, and saw the tight-lipped smile you gave, he leaned in to comfort you. “Don’t give him a second thought.” He whispered against your hair. “Eddie’s just… out there.”

Patting your thigh, Braun walked to join his friend at the water dispenser, leaving you to heave the tightening breaths of your chest from the sudden suffocation you felt from guilt and anxiety. “C’mon, man, lay off the comments, alright?” Braun quietly spoke to Eddie. “I don’t need you chasin’ her away when I actually love her.”

“‘Love?’” Eddie playfully whistled. “Hm, you must actually care for this girl, huh?”

Braun confirmed with his lovesick smile that made Eddie want to hurl. Soon, Braun was leaning in close to bump his friend in the chest. “So what d'ya think?”

Eddie’s daunting eyes looked past Braun’s shoulder, connecting with your fretful ones, and a sickeningly smile creased his face. He tsked, watching your ostentatious manner refusing to touch the furniture he and his buddies called home. “Seems a little… anal-retentive.” He smirked at Braun. “But, hey, she’s cute, and y’know what, if you like, I like her.” If only Braun Peterson knew of the extent of the underlying meaning his closest friend was alluding to. “You good to her? Treat her well?” Eddie questioned.

“Of course.” Your boyfriend was quick to answer.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Eddie casually nodded along, chewing on the wooden stick between his teeth. “Aye, because y’know pretty girls like her will be quick to look for another man to satisfy her. Gotta treat ‘em well, so they keep their fucking legs closed.” The toothpick snapped at the sudden clenching of his teeth, before Eddie sighed a heavy breath to calm himself. “But I think you gotta good girl on your hands, Brauny, nothin’ to worry about.” Eddie dragged out, before calling to you. “Hey, that seat comfortable for you sweetheart? Need a stool or somethin’?”

A wave of nausea slapped you, as you watched his sinister smile.

Eddie Munson totally saw trying to get off at the sight of him.

His minacious laugh puffed in your face, as he loved watching your eyes crumble in self-reproach from your actions. “Yeah, you fuckin’ remember, baby?” He cooed, as your head dropped with guilt as to what you had just done. But his abrasive hand was quick to forcefully grab your face, cheeks squishing under his tight grip. “Don’t feel bad, princess, it’s okay to share a little.” Eddie smiled, as your eyes frantically looked into his. “Quit the fucking innocent act.” He advised you. “You and I both know how much of a slut you are.”

“I-I,” your thoughts had been racing with the screams of wanting him off of you, but your body was falling limp in his arms, ready to let him take what you so desperately wanted him to take. The words died on your tongue, when suddenly harshing pounding came from the door.

“Yo, anyone in there?!” A drunken voice called out.

“I’ll be out a second!” You managed to rip through your shaky voice, while Eddie breathily chuckled, his hand refusing to let go of your face.

Hearing the partygoer’s footsteps decline in the distance, your heart eased for the slightest moment, and suddenly your nervous system was wailing for you to leave while you could. But before you knew it, unexpectedly, the softest kiss was placed upon your scrunched lips from the man who nearly devoured your mouth so aggressively two seconds ago; you had no choice but to be receptive. “So sweet.” He gently moved his lips against you, it had your tummy erupting with the sensations of a new touch. “So fucking perfect, y’know that? Just how perfect you are?”

Every time he briefly left your lips, you whined for more attention, quickly bringing your lips back to him with a sigh of his name, “Eddie.”

“Mm,” he moaned against your mouth. “I can see why Brauny never shuts the fuck up about you.” The mention of his name had you stiffening. “Tell me, baby, do you suck his cock as good as you kiss him?”

Stunned and repulsed by the jerk you let kiss you, you shoved Eddie’s chest back, finally getting him off of you, and before you mind could process, your hand connected to his cheek with a stinging slap. Your burning hand had trembled, as it slowly clasped it over your mouth in disbelief. Eddie slowly turned to you with a sly grin, but before he could make any movements, your feet finally found the courage to sweep you out of the bathroom with a harsh slam to the door.

On autopilot, you quickly descended down the stairs into the lively living room that did little to ease the bloodcurdling thud of your beating heart that felt as if it was going to rip out of you. It wasn’t until a hand latched itself to the bicep of your arm, reeling you back against a body.

“Hey, hey, you okay, hon?” Braun’s voice echoed into your ear.

“U-Um-”

“Baby, look, if this is about what Cheryl said, please don’t pay any mind to it.” He stroked your arm with concern. “She- everybody here just has a traditional way of thinking, but it’s not what I think. I promise, I’m not looking to shove a proposal down your throat when you’re not ready.” Braun had a fascinating way of calming your worries that drastically differed from the rush Eddie had just forced you through. “Hell, I’m not even ready.” He chuckled, which was able to elicit a small smile from you, at least. “I wanna take my time with you, cherish my moments with you, baby.”

God, you were an awful human being.

Peering behind his shoulder, you watched Eddie saunter his way down the stairs with a lingering stare that quickly found yours. “C-Can we go?” You hastily rushed out. “I’m just a little overwhelmed m-meeting all these new people.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah.” He’s quick to drop off the beers to the living room side tables that were supposed to be your drinks. “C’mon, baby, let’s just take a breather.”

If you knew the guilt Braun Peterson felt for the sole reason of throwing you into a crowd of overwhelming people when you’d literally just kissed his closest friend, you would have pathetically begged on your knees for his forgiveness in front of everyone, and detailed the million ways he was so incredible. But this would stay quiet; suppurating within you, because the peace on his face was more important than wrecking his life. As he guided you to the front door, you looked back to meet the eyes of the man who sparked a match inside you, his arm hanging around a blonde, when you wanted to be the one held under it. Eddie Munson winked at you, cruelly changing the course of your life.

For the days to come, Braun saw an immense amount of affection coming from your part. But who was he to complain, when someone as pretty and sweet as you willingly showed the world how much you loved him? Welcoming the morning sun with your tongue prodded at the slit of his tip, before ferociously waking him with the ride of his life, as your ass pummeled against his thighs, only for the cherry on top to come when breakfast was served like you suddenly became a housewife to your boyfriend. But you’d do whatever if it meant getting the image of his best friend out of your head, despite it leading to the best orgasm you’ve ever had when you pictured it was his cock you were riding, only to realize your lip had been sputtering with blood, because you refused your mouth the need to call out his name, Eddie!

But Friday night came, and it seemed your thoughts satiated under the cuddle of your boyfriend, who agreed to a movie night that entailed buying an obscene amount of candy from the Family Video store, where Labyrinth was purchased alongside the sweets. Wrapped under his embrace, a thick woven blanket swallowed you against the rugged couch of the basement, where you felt yourself sinking deeper and deeper.

For once, peace had come, tranquilizing the tumultuous feelings that consumed you alive. That was until the basement door impetuously flung open before echoing with a slam, that had yours and Braun’s head snapping to the stairs that creaked under the incoming weight. “Mason?” He called out for his cousin.

But it wasn’t the familiar face of his family member who lent you both the basement of his house, and your stomach twisted with fear. “Nope.” He popped the enunciation, as his hair bounced with every step until he reached the bottom step. “But he let me in.”

Braun sat up with a curious look, too occupied with the arrival of his friend to notice the rash way you curled into his side. “Hey, you alright? What’s up?” His eyes followed, as Eddie dramatically plopped himself on the singular recliner next to the couch.

“Ah, nothing.” He made himself at home, clearly lacking the regard of his intrusion to your night. “Just hangin’ around, thought I’d stop by.” His eyes glued to the television screen.

“Not that we don’t appreciate you, man,” Braun began, “but, uh, this is kinda just a movie night… for us.”

Eddie watched the oddity of the movie for a split second, before his head twisted to the both of you, eyeing the closeness with a piqued brow. “Which one of you freaks picked this movie? Was it you, sweetheart?” He smiled, as he watched you shift uncomfortably.

“Alright, c’mon, Ed, seriously.” Braun interjected.

“I’m kidding.” Eddie scoffed. “C’mon, Brauny, it’s been months since I’ve seen you, the least you two could do is spare the couple minutes of whatever touching is going on under that blanket, and let me relax here for a minute.” He argued, sinking into his chair. You watched Braun sigh, for whatever reason suddenly becoming a lap dog to the friend he long admired throughout high school, merely bringing you closer as means to make up for it.

“By the way, driving all the way here seems to be the last resort to relaxing.” Braun poked.

“Aw, c’mon did you actually think I was thinkin’ of you, Brauny?” He wooed, his eyes briefly connecting with you, as Braun rolled his. “Was seein’ Cynthia down the street.” Eddie answered.

“Dude, Ed, doesn’t she have a kid?” Braun grimaced, recalling the moments in which his cousin’s neighbor—three doors down with a minivan and white shutters—threw him an occasional hello with a stroller evident on her walk around the neighborhood.

“So fuckin’ what?” He laughed, causing your stomach to churn with disgust. “That kid made her have massive tits, it’s not like I’m looking to be the stepfather.” Eddie smiled looking back at you, your eyes refusing to meet his. “Just a simple exchange of goods for services.” He proudly announced. “Speakin’ of which, I happen to give Cynthia my last couple’a joints, you got any to smoke here?”

“No.” Braun sighed, scruffing his hair with his hand. “Haven’t gotten the chance to speak to Rick to get some, miss it, though.”

“Then go get some.”

Fuck, you knew what he was doing.

“Me? This is my place you barged into, you go.” Braun retaliated to his friend’s taunting.

“Can’t,” Eddie tsked, “kinda fucked around with the blonde Rick had his eye on a couple nights ago at Eric’s.” He laughed. “But in my defense, she never clarified, and was fairly easy, so, I mean…”

“Can you ever learn to just keep it in your pants?” Braun jabbed, forcing his friend to chuckle at the joke.

“Priorities, Brauny, Priorities.” Eddie winked, before reaching into his back pocket, retrieving the loose dollar bills from his tattered wallet to slap against the center coffee table. “Look, it’s on me, we can wait for you here, right, sweetheart?”

No, no, no. Your knees clutched to your chest, as you tried to steady the breaths that were already becoming uneasy from his presence alone. Braun peered down at you. “You can come if you want. Just gotta wait in the car, don’t want you meetin’ someone like him.”

Your eyes flickered to the man who was sickeningly grinning, somehow having the power to pull a pulsating sensation from your pussy that had you swallowing thickly. “I-It’s okay.” It wasn’t. “I can just wait here.” You spoke so meekly, as though you’d been the victim in this situation, when Braun’s pure smile beamed down at you.

“Thirty minutes top, baby.” A quick kiss landed against you, before he stood from the couch. “Don’t let him burn the house down, please.” Braun joked, slamming his hand against the table to pocket the money Eddie provided.

“Gotta good girl’s influence hanging over me,” Eddie smiled, “nothing to worry about, Brauny.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, running a soft hand against the top of your head to wish you goodbye. “Love you, baby, be right back.”

“I love you.” You shared the sentiment, watching him jog upstairs, where the basement door closed behind him with a deafening silence that shot through you. You watched the door for far longer than needed, a pressuring sting coming from your nail digging into your cuticle to get rid of the apprehension that festered in your belly.

Eddie laughed. “What a fucking liar.” Your head snapped, ready to scream at him that your words held truth; the deep admiration for the man who did nothing wro- “That I am.” Eddie added, pulling out a zippo lighter from his pocket followed by a joint. He lavished in the twitching of your eyes, flashing from anger to anxiousness under the action of him shedding his jacket to light what was brought to his lips.

A puff of cloud escaped his mouth before he spoke. “Take a hit, baby, you’re so goddamn tense I can practically feel the stick up your ass.” He stood from his place to sit next to you, immediately rolling his eyes as he found you shifting away from him, until your back hit the far end of arm rest, feet digging into the cushion as your knees stayed glued to your chest. “Relax, alright-”

“Eddie, we can’t-”

“I’m only tryin’ to get you to relax, shut up for two seconds and take a fucking hit.” He scolded, and your eyes widened under his intimidation. His body scooted until your painted toes were trapped beneath the heavy weight of his denim-clad thick thighs, allowing him to bring the joint to your face. “Don’t wanna have to get mean, just put it in your mouth.” You wondered where the anger from your assault to his face was lingering, surely the hit had to have pissed him off to some degree. His fingertips pressed against your lips, as your mouth enveloped the end of the joint, welcoming the burn to your throat. “Look so cute with that shit in your mouth, so good, princess.”

You pushed his hand away when it became too much, trying to control your coughing from the large intake. “T-Too much.”

“Mhm, I know, baby.” He whispered, watching your lips pout, as his hand caressed your leg. Bringing the joint to his lips and hearing it sizzle, Eddie moaned against it. “Fuck, I can taste your mouth on it.”

You pushed your knee away to get his hand to fall back into his lap, where his fingers only moved to hover over the bulge of his pants, as he took more hits. Soon, his sole hand was undoing the buckle of his belt, and your brows arched against his movement, yet your mouth stayed quiet from any protest.

Your lips parted in awe watching his cock spring against his belly, pants coming to hang around his thighs. His finger came to gently tease the head, before his hand wrapped to smear the precum that oozed from the tip. So casually, Eddie Munson began fucking his hand so casually, as if you weren’t sitting next to him. He acted as though he was in the comfort of his own bedroom, and you wondered whether the bit of anger that mixed in with the arousal that pressed against your belly was from the fact that he could get off without even sparing a glance at you.

He smoked and jerked his cock, letting you bask in the glory of his heavy member, where his hand tugged the loose skin of his big balls to smack against his hairy thighs. As casual as he was, Eddie was itching to turn his head and watch your legs clench with need, something his peripheral could only get a glance at, but Eddie Munson wasn’t giving in. He felt your toes curl under his thigh, your body speaking for itself to be touched.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” He twisted his palm against the slick head of his cock, before he squeezed down to his base for more tugs that had him wondering if your pussy felt anywhere near as good as his hand. You watched his fingers pull up his shirt, until his teeth bit down to hold the fabric up, and his toned toros was cramping from the sensation he was bringing himself. “Mmm!” He moaned, wetting his shirt with his mouth, as his hand became relentless against the thumping veins of his cock.

No longer a thought of need, his fingers abandoned the lit joint to the ashtray that stayed stationed on the table with a few cigarettes, and his free fingers traveled to toy with his nipples, pulling the pebbled nubs to spark up his impending orgasm. “Ugh, mm!” His hips were gyrating upward, chasing the fleshlight that was his hand, as his speed increased, and your hands grasped onto the old couch for the needed restraint to not throw yourself onto him.

With an aggressive jerk to his cock, and a stinging pinch to his nipple, the angry red head of his dick sputtered out his creamy cum, dribbling against his belly before the pool collected against his unruly pubic hair.

His shirt slowly slipped from his teeth, as Eddie caught his breath with heavy grunts. “Fuck me, shit.” Taking his fingers, he dragged it around the breadth of his belly to gather the seeping cum, where he finally turned to you with dark eyes, and used his cum tainted fingers to motion you closer.

You body mindlessly complied until those same fingers were pressing into your mouth, letting his salty spent invade your taste buds, before your throat began getting fucked. “Wanna fucking slap me and walk away, huh?” His free hand wrapped behind your neck to keep you gagging at his mercy. “Wanna get mad at me for you being a filthy slut? ‘N drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy?” You whined, holding his wrist in an attempt to ease the thrashing of his fingers down your throat. “God, so fucking pretty.”

His fingers ripped from your tongue, but before your lungs could get a breath of fresh air, his mouth was on you, replacing his fingers with his tongue, as he kissed you with such ferocity, it nearly felt like a punishment. Teeth clashing and biting, you mewled in protest. “Eddie!” You gasped pushing away, but his hands kept your face close.

“What, you don’t want me to?” He mocked, before laughing. “Y’know I don’t give a fuck.” Pushing you back against the couch, Eddie climbed over you where his mouth continued his assault against your lips, and your hands wavered into his sweaty curls.

In the briefest moment your lips disconnected, “W-We need to-” You moaned, feeling his plump lip suction against yours. “Stop, Eddie, we should- ugh!” Eddie pulled away and watched your body crave more, but your eyes stung with its glassy coating of tears that were threatening to spill. “Braun…”

“Aw, he’s gonna come back soon, ‘n you don’t wanna get caught.” He whispered, as his forehead fell against yours.

“He’s your friend.” Your voice cracked with guilt.

Eddie huffed. “You better listen clearly.” His hand wrapped around your jaw to force your eyes to his. “Brauny’s a big boy. Yeah, he may be my friend, but Brauny’s got this pretty, little thing that I need to play with, so being frank with you, baby, I don’t care.” His nose flared with anger, as his words stung. “And I’m gonna need you to cut this bullshit sorry act, because it’s really pissin’ me off, and I don’t wanna have to get angry with you.” He hissed. “Okay, baby?”

You stared into his dark eyes, mouth gulping to reply. “Okay.” And once again, your lips grazed his, letting him groan into your mouth.

“Mm, you really are so pretty, angel, such a good girl listenin’ to me.” He murmured. “Looking like this, how could your boyfriend ever expect me to keep my hands off of you?” He kissed. “You gonna let me touch you- touch that needy fuckin’ clit. I’ve never touched one before, you gonna let me touch yours?” He tormented with the brushing of his fingers against your pajama shorts.

You pouted your lips at him, brows cinching at his words. “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

And Eddie Munson snuck that signature laugh in your laugh that you didn’t appreciate, but your pussy surely did. “What does it matter if I’m lyin’ to you, you’re gonna let me touch you, anyway.” His fingers curled around the scrunchy waistband, before pulling them from your legs to expose your sopping cunt to the cold air of the basement. “Fuck, look at that.”

You didn’t know what came over you, but with a hand over his where he parted your legs, you chin tucked in to delicately ask him a question. “Did you really have sex with those girls?”

Eddie smiled, tongue lapping at his lip as he looked at you. “Does it hurt your feelings if I did?” You shrugged, not really sure why you asked, though clearly agitated by the knowing answer. “Do I gotta tell you pretty things, so you don’t get hurt?”

His hand combed through your patch of pubes, tickling your abdomen in a way that had your body seeking for more. “Please, Eddie.”

“Mm, what is it, baby?” His nails raked down the side of your pussy lips, deliberately avoiding your slit to tease the nerves of your mound. “Need your little pussy touched? It’s so fucking gorgeous.” You nodded, scratching his forearm down to his wrist to urge his movements further. “Gimme another kiss first, princess.”

You pulled him in, letting your kiss spark up the butterflies that loved to erupt in your tummy whenever you saw him. Not so harshly as before, your kiss passionately swallowed you both, with the sweet connection of saliva that strung between your moving lips. But you had an appetite for more, grossly moving the kiss into a heated direction that had him moaning on your teeth. Denying yourself from him was punishment enough, the care no longer festered, you were getting what you deserved.

“Uh, calm yourself, baby.” He spoke between kisses with a teasing chuckle. “Look at you so desperate, shh, calm down. Be slow with me for a second, sweetheart.” You obeyed, slowing your movements into a languid interaction, before your lips latched onto his tongue, pulling it out from his mouth to suck on, as if it was his cock, because you never got the chance to fully taste his musk.

Eddie mewled, cock twitching against your thigh, as your action had him melting with a burning desire. Finally, the squelching noise of your dripping arousal echoed into the room, as his fingers dove into the folds of your pussy. “Is that your fucking clit, baby? Listen to how wet your pussy is for me.”

“Mm, Eddie.” You sucked in a breath, as your fat bud was being toyed with.

“Moaning for me, princess, you’re moaning.” He whispered into your ear. “‘Cause you're mine right now, I’m making you moan, not him, hm. Not your little Brauny. You only moan for me, at least for right now, because you have a boyfriend.” You absentmindedly nodded along to whatever words he was feeding you, too caught up with your pussy being played with to care. “We’ll see about that.” He laughed, before nipping at your earlobe.

“Wanna touch you, too, baby.” You whined, reaching for his hung cock, letting your hands twirl around the heated length that was circulating with enough blood to fuck you for multiple rounds.

Eddie hissed. “Sss, what are you doin’? Grabbin’ my fucking cock?” He smiled, as you stroked him, allowing him to plunge his fingers into your tightening cunt, as both your movements fell in sync with one another. “Grab it, yes, baby, fuckin’ grab that cock!”

“Fuck, that feels so good, Eddie!” His fingers pulled out to rub your clit, before suddenly your pelvis jolted with the burning sensation of his hand coming down to your pussy. “Eddie!”

“Lemme slap that clit, lemme slap that fucking clit, baby.” Your wetness splashed against your inner thighs with each spanking of his hand. “God, you don’t know what you do to me, sweetheart. Such a pretty girl, I’m fucking losin’ my control over you. Got you strokin’ my cock, while my fingers fuck your pussy, and I love it, baby, I love it so fucking much.” He babbled, teeth biting down to keep the worse words in. Your brows furrowed, as his fingers blasted within you, hooking inside to scratch that throbbing g-spot that had you wailing with want. “Smile for me, baby, smile ‘cause I’m making my baby feel so good.”

And you did, letting your head crash back with your mouth hanging open with an inebriated smile tugging at your lips, as you played with each other. His lips crashed down for another smearing kiss that had your tongues desperately pirouetting around each other.

Your thighs began shaking under his control, pistoling his fingers in a way that was bringing you closer to your release. While looking down at your thrusting hips, he simultaneously pulled away from your kiss, leaving you to whine for his return. “No! More!”

He looked back up into those pathetic round eyes and scrunched brows with your bitten lips that nearly had him collapsing with another orgasm, as your hands pulled at the head of his cock and squeezed his balls. “Don’t you fuckin’ look at me like that.” He warned, not ready to release his load if it wasn’t going to be inside of you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of his sweaty face, beads of perspiration invading his hairline, as his face flushed with a blushing rose that surely made him feel embarrassed with how vulnerable he looked. “Don’t fuckin’- don’t you- ugh- no, no, no, no!”

His large hand slapped your cheek, forcing your face away, leaving you gasping in disbelief. “I’ll fuckin’ slap you.” He spat, watching you merely turn your head back with a sparking revelation in your eyes that made you look even more beautiful. “I’ll slap your stupid fucking face-” Another stinging crash to you cheek that had you crying in pain, but you kept looking for more. “You like that shit?”

You hurriedly nodded, letting your tears pool from the growing pain that tightened your pussy around his fingers. “Yes, more!”

A harsh smack landed on your cheek once more, agitating your poor skin. “Mhm, like that, me fucking slapping that stupid, little fucking face.” His hand felt the wetness of your tears drenching your cheeks with every slap. “Bruisin’ that pretty fucking face, fuck! C’mere, c’mere!”

His tongue lavished against your burning skin, bringing tingles to your body when his spit-covered tongue ran against your hot cheek to lick up your salty tears. “Get your fuckin’ hands off my cock, I’m shovin’ it inside your desperate cunt.” Eddie declared, slapping his tip to your pussy, to let your wetness pour on his dick.

A harsh stab to your pussy lunged his thick cock into your pulsating walls, urging a screaming moan from your lungs. “Fuck! You’re so fucking tight!” His hands clamped around the front of your thighs to fold you in half.

“Ugh, fuck! Slow, p-please, baby, slow!” You wailed.

“Yeah?” He cooed, driving his thrust down to one punctuated one every second. “You want this cock slowly, can’t fucking handle this tight, little pussy getting fucked hard?”

Your trembling hands cupped his face, letting you bring him down for a consuming kiss. “J-Just wanna feel all of you.”

“You are, baby, you are.” Eddie pierced himself into your g-spot. “Feel it deep inside, baby, feel my fucking cock all the way inside! Just for you! You- you fucking dirty, filthy whore!” The muscles of his ass tightly clenched to pound you thoroughly with each stroke. “Gonna let me do it faster? Huh? Fuck you into this fucking couch until your some braindead slut? Look at you taking my cock!” His hips began slapping faster. “Gonna be fucking good for me?”

“Uh-huh! Always, fuck!”

“You will?” He taunted. “You fucking will? You’ll take this cock whenever I want you to? Whenever I want this pussy of mine? In front of your boyfriend? Tie him to a fuckin’ chair, and force him to watch me fuck his pretty girlfriend’s little cunt!”

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me better than him!” Your hips moved to meet his slapping thighs, as you clenched around his cock to milk him with the cum you wanted in your cunt. “Want him to watch me take your fat cock!”

An animalistic growl forced its way out of chest, as the image of his best friend crying over the despair of betrayal elicited him to rut his hips into you fervently. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” His head dropped against your chest, reveling in the commotion of your bouncing tits that were urging to be freed. His hands pulled at your shirt, exposing your boobs that were quickly squished together under his hands, as his tongue lapped around your nipple.

“Ugh, yes, you’re gonna make me cum!” You heaved, finding your hand had landed on his thigh at a weak attempt to slow his crashing movements into your pussy.

“Beautiful fucking tits!” He nibbled on your pointy nipples, forcing those whines that drove him crazy to come out. “So fuckin’ delicious! And just for me!”

“Just for you! Only you!”

“Yeah?” He pouted at you. “Fuck, fucking lick my hand, lick my fucking hand, you bitch.” His palm landed on your mouth, where you dumbly stuck your tongue out to taste the sweatiness of his hand, before that same hand came crashing down on your cheek for the umpteenth time. “Stick that filthy fuckin’ tongue out when I slap you in the fuckin’ face!”

You obliged, letting the wet muscle hang out as another slap landed on your face, forcing your head to the side. But turning your face back with the expectation of one more slap fell short, when instead, a glob of warm spit hit your tongue, one after another.

“Fuckin’ clean that asshole from you fucking holes!” More spit. “‘Cause you’re mine! Not his! With my spit in your mouth and my cum in your pussy, you’ll be fuckin mine, right?!”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as the rope in your belly was hanging on by a mere thread ready to snap. “Yes! Yes! Just yours!” You cried out. “Cleanse me! Cleanse me with your cum and make me yours!”

Eddie’s hand pressed down against your pelvis harshly, prompting a gushing stream of your hot squirt to wet yourself and his thighs, as you screamed from the highs of orgasmic ecstasy. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I’m cumming! I’m- FUCK!”

Nothing but heavy breaths could be heard in the basement that reeked of sex and bodily fluids. Your hands fell limp around his neck, whereas he sagged the entirety of his dead weight against your chest. His teeth grinded from the continuation of your pussy clenching around him, as your body tried to settle at the unfamiliar size that inculcated itself brutality into your cunt.

It was quiet. It was peace.

Until the ringing in your ears subsided, and slowly began picking up on the maniacal laugh that was coming from the man who slowly picked up his head from your chest to greet your un-whitening vision with a sinister smile, and suddenly you felt the pit in your stomach sink.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve just made a big fuckin’ mistake.” He chuckled, harshly pressing his forehead into yours, causing the seat cushion to dent beneath you. “Y’know why?” He tantalized, watching your eyes grow big with fear. “Because if your little boyfriend touches you after you just said you were mine,” he placed a delicate kiss to your lips that you couldn’t muster to reciprocate, too scared to do so, “I’m gonna fucking kill him.” He laughed.

A minute and eight seconds.

Braun Peterson had leaned the weight of his body against the counter, letting the low hum of the buzzing microwave lull his mind to ease, as the fingers of his hand shoved against his eye to wake from the tiredness of the morning day. It hadn’t been until the slap of a heavy hand against his bare shoulder jolted his eyes open to see his cousin slugging his socked feet against the linoleum tiles, before scratching the floor with the chair legs to have a seat at the kitchen table.

Mason had yawned, stretching his jaw from the bitter soreness of having to deal with a restless night of grinding his teeth. “Where’s the missus?” His nails scratched over his stubble. “Sleepin’ in?” Given your gratitude for a place to stay, Mason had spent the few days of your presence waking up to a full breakfast of all the fixins, differing greatly to the two-minute microwave food the young welder had to succumb to for his poor skills behind the stove.

The morning had changed with the sight of Braun in front of the buzzing appliance. “Out, actually.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, couple days ago,” Braun cleared his dry throat, “she met Cheryl- you remember Cheryl?” Not exactly someone from Mason's graduating class, but given Hawkins’ small breadth of streets, a distant young face of hormonal acne and blue eyeshadow was all that could be pulled from his string of memories, as Cheryl Daniels still sported that purity ring that had long gone been switched out for an engagement ring to her military fiance, whom she could relish his fat benefits with. So, Mason simply nodded to get the story along. “Anyway, yeah, Y/N met her, and, well, you know how women are; one giddy introduction, next thing y’know they’re doing 9:00 a.m pilates and leavin’ me behind to eat some shit food for breakfast.”

Mason peered at the counter to see the empty box of his frozen food. “You asshole, ‘s that my last Hot Pocket?” His mundane voice spoke, too tired to hold any real malice behind it.

“I’ll head to the store and buy you a whole new pack, relax.”

Braun Peterson steadily watched the last couple of seconds tick down. “If anything, man, I deserve that one after you and Y/N kept me up last night.” Mason breathily chuckled.

“Ah, sorry,” Braun stretched his arms, “Y’know Eddie came over, we watched a movie, didn’t realize it was so loud- which if you want any advice, don’t watch Labyrinth high, unless you wanna have a total freak out.”

“Not talking about that.” Mason shook his head with a laugh. “But, aye, next time you bring Munson around and make my basement reek of weed, the least you could do is save me some.”

But Braun’s eyebrows had stayed scrunched with concern to ever consider his cousin’s future word of advice. “The hell are you talking about then?” He curiously poked.

“You and Y/N.” Mason emphasized with a sly smirk to tease. “I mean, you guys are usually pretty considerate, but I guess the weed really got to y’all or somthing, man, you two were fucking loud last night- and I mean that literally.” He laughed. “Would’ve taken her as a quiet girl.”

Braun Peterson blinked. You had went straight to bed last night after the movie. In fact, you heavily implored him to do the same, after swifty prompting Eddie out of the door when the credit scenes rolled. “Y/N and I- we didn’t… no, we didn’t-”

The microwave beeped.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #mean!eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic

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enam3l · 1 year

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https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMYHUKpBj/

Three words: Dad! Eddie Munson

Ok well I'm obsessed? I was literally just gonna reply like I love this but no I got too carried away and produced one of the most random and bizarre fics I've ever done. I'm sleep deprived okay!

the munson sandwich (rockstar eddie x reader)

/ hella fluff / taglist and requests open

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

Should kids sleep in their parents bed? It was always going to be a bone of contention. Eddie was to the core, a clinger, he wanted to be in physical contact with you constantly. So you knew from the get go it would be no better (if not worse) with your children. After reading all the parenting books your brain could handle before imploding, you decided you didn't have a strong opinion either way on whether kids slept with you or not.

However, once you had Sloane, both of you were so besotted, it wasn't even a question. As if meant to be, she fitted perfectly between you and Eddie in bed. Every night you would all get cosy and form the Sloane Sandwich. A perfect recipe with a slice of mom and dad and in between was the filling of Sloaney Bologna (a nickname coined by Eddie that neither you or your daughter were too thrilled about). Both of you were infatuated with the perfect little cherub you made together and just wanted to be near her always. Sloane could happily snuggle against her dad with you being big spoon and still able to keep your arm over her and Eddie's torso. It was ideal.

Then Iris came along aka Eddie's clone and shadow. Naturally, she inherited her dad's clinginess as well as everything else. Unlike Sloane, who just slept happily in the middle enjoying both parents. Iris insisted on clinging to Eddie like a tiny curly headed spider monkey. Now it was a slice of you, Sloaney Bologna and then Iris insisted on being so close to Eddie, she was more like a condiment smeared on top of him rather than an extra filling. For the first time in your relationship, your sleeping position of having your arm draped around Eddie's stomach was no longer possible. Instead he just had a little Iris laying right on top, a mini Munson stack. But, you couldn't be angry, not when they looked so cute. Little duplicates of each other who'd become inseparable.

It worked out that you had two years between each daughter. So by time you were pregnant with Maeve, the bed was full with four year old Sloane and two year old Iris, plus you and Eddie. Realising there's quite a difference between that and just a baby and a two year old in the bed. Iris was now less of a little mini Munson stack on top of Eddie but rather a lump. All of that mixed with your baby bump, meant it was time to have the talk with Eddie.

'Baby, we can't all fit in the same bed anymore,' you broke it to him.

He gasped like you had suggested something outrageously cruel, as if you now wanted your kids to sleep in cages.

'But we're a Munson sandwich?!' He huffed.

'Well, you've overfilled the sandwich,' you raised a finger at him, stopping him from sniggering at the innuendo. 'I am the top piece of bread that can no longer balance on top! Between you, your clinger, Sloaney and now the bump, your beloved wife and carrier of your children is practically falling out of bed.'

Over the years, you had learnt using carrying his children was a sure fire way to win with Eddie. He groaned like a teenager, knowing you'd used the secret weapon.

'Fiiiine. We'll get a bigger mattress, sweetheart!'

Your jaw dropped.

'Eddie! That is not what I was suggesting!'

He held his hand up in protest.

'Well, sweets, you should've known better than to have ever let me have my way and have the girls in the bed. We're a bed sharing family now. Deal with it. We shall be getting a bigger mattress!'

By the end of the week you were the proud owner of a mattress that seemed to be the size of every other one you've owned, stitched together. Yet, Eddie would soon learn it would not be enough. Nothing was a match for the terror of Maeve Munson.

'I don't know how, but I know you've taught her to do this,' he accused, outraged that a baby kicked him so hard he had a black eye.

After you dealt with Iris clinging to your husband for the last two years, he was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Although, Maeve was far more ruthless than her sister, even as a newborn.

'You were in her way,' you smirked, 'she thought you were trying to steal her Mommy.'

'You were mine first,' Eddie grumbled from the other side of the bed, sore eye and all.

Now Sloane was six, she wasn't a permanent feature in the bed but her absence did not create more space. Maeve simply turned it into a buffering zone. If her dad were to encroach on the space, little limbs would kick ferociously to keep him at bay.

One night you had even been awoken by a wail from Eddie.

'AHhh you better be sure that you didn't want anymore kids, Y/N because Cerberus Munson has just crushed all hope of it!!'

To go with his now sore balls, he got a hard shove from yourself.

'Cerberus Munson? Absolutely not. That nickname is vetoed. Far worse than Sloaney Bologna. If Maeve is Cerberus, that means I'm hell!!'

He knew he'd stitched himself up with that one so sulked in silence the rest of the night; bringing you your favourite breakfast in the morning.

As you sat on your bed, eating your apology breakfast, alongside a black eyed and tender balled, Eddie, you strategised. Despite how funny it was, there was no denying your precious, protective Maeve was a health hazard. It would be a real shame to injure him further considering you'd married a man with such a pretty face and balls. So, a new arrangement was made. No longer were you and Eddie the slices of bread in the Munson Sandwich. It now went a slice of Iris, a filling of dad, a filling of mom and then a slice of Maeve. It meant for the first time in four years, you and Eddie could actually fall asleep on each other like you had your whole relationship. Then, on the occasion Sloane joined, she could slip perfectly in between you just as she had when she first arrived.

Even as your children grew older, the Munson Sandwich was still beloved. On sad days or chilly nights, the Sandwich would reassemble. It didn't matter if they were adults with their own children, Eddie and you were going to cuddle your girls like they were still your little babies.

---

my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar @therosietoesy @littlepotatobeansworld

@josephquinncore

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cuethediscoandthedrinks · 1 year

Text

eddie munson's kinklist (top 5) ✨

so i'm on a kinklist roll - enjoy smutsters!

power play~

despite being a soft!dom, eddie's a big fan of the (temporary) exchange of/battle for sexual dominance. it's more on the basis of him being completely in charge as a baseline, but more than happy to amuse and indulge in your bedroom whims. if you want to play dom, he'll let you for the time being; but when he decides the playing is enough, or your sticky pink pussy is just too good to not fuck full of his cum, he'll swap roles in an instant.

he's big on the humiliating and patronizing to do this; lots of tuts, 'tssk's and 'hm, oh reaaally?'s (with some added bitchslapping, spanking and groping, as elaborated here). think about him like a sexual mad hatter, if you will; apropos of nothing kind of sex and foreplay - riding on the fact that when he wants to take over and fingerfuck you until you gush all over him, or get you on your knees to slurp up his precum from his leaking cock, he'll be content to turn the tables in an instant to discipline any bratty behavior. mmm

sensory deprivation~

this is more on you than him, as he loves nothing more than to see you sat on his lap, bouncing on his hardened dick, whilst sporting tied hands and his favorite glittery black blindfold. anything that makes you more vulnerable to him, or makes it easier for him to play with you. eddie's got big sexual playmate energy, and finds it extra arousing to see you squirming and writhing in pleasure with little more to do to qualm your needs, so any kind of sensory/bondage foreplay is ideal for getting him all riled up.

his favorite thing to do is set you on a pillow on your knees, cuff your hands, and have you hump one of his cushions until you cum. an additional form of torture for both of you is making you slobber and gag all over your favourite floor-suctioned dildo, taking pleasure from both ends. a perfect end to a day would be eddie sprawled on his couch, languidly jerking at his throbbing length while he watches you come undone like that in front of him, all restricted and helpless just how he likes it

teasing/edging~

just like his love of playing with you all tied up and exposed to him, he loves anything resembling teasing; this can take the form not just of actual sex, but sexual behavior all throughout the day. waking up to him gyrating into your ass, groaning softly in your ear, that's just the start; he'll continue to tease, e.g. showering with the door open, licking his fingers extra suggestively when he's eating breakfast, or throwing in a couple gropes and squeezes of your ass or tits before going out. he loves anything that turns your sex life into a game, and likewise anything that spices up the chase.

despite being a soft dom, he's still open to some edging not just on you, but on him too. this still remains his choice, but he'll extend himself to coaxing you close to orgasm, only to pull out and lay some heavy cock-taps onto your pulsating opening - even if this means he has to wait a little longer to fill up your warm, wet pussy. or maybe he'll have you below him, taking his swollen cock deep into your throat, only to pull you off and have you fondle his shaft and balls - just slowly bringing him closer and closer to his perfect release ideally all over your awaiting tongue

noise kink~

irrespective of roles and foreplay, this man whore loves to know you're enjoying yourself. your soft moans, or high-pitched squeals, or throaty gags and groans are all exactly what he likes to hear. they last not just in the moment, but when he's alone in his room, or in the shower; he's happy to take care of himself when you're not there too, so being able to call on those pretty sounds of yours are a big yes for him. there's something esp dirty to him about hearing you with a gag of some kind, though; something about knowing you're making these whoreish noises despite already being degraded like that, he just can't get enough of.

additionally, he loves the noises of sex. hearing the throes of pleasure is one thing, but hearing the tell-tale glucks of his fingers or dick deep in your mouth, or the squelching and skin-slapping of his cock hilt-deep inside your aching pussy is just top tier for eddie. it makes it all the more immersive for him - the idea of being slick with sweat, bed creaking, sticky pussy taking in his length, tongues fighting for dominance, saliva mixing in such a lewd way? he's likely got an extra bottle of lube waiting around somewhere just to make all those noises extra graphic and nasty for you two

daddy/babygirl~

he's pretty happy with any nickname/dynamic; sir, master, boss, teacher, etc etc. but his favorite is daddy. not even for the pop culture/daddy issues cliche, but more because it just intimates something especially dirty and degrading to him. to use something so seemingly pure and innocent, with such degrading and intimate acts just gets him all hot and bothered. he likely doesn't even identify with the dilf!daddy vibes, but more the classic filthy, biker gang diner-milkshake 60s energy. when you ask eddie for something, it's got nothing on asking daddy for something, yk? and if you throw in some batted eyelashes and a pouty lip? he's whipped

when he hears a '..pretty please?' paired with 'daddy', he may become just that bit more responsible and even feel a sense of obligation to fulfill his babygirl's needs: be it bending you over a counter and fucking you deep and full; fingering that tight, throbbing pussy on the ride back to his place; or maybe even licking and sucking on his favorite hot, dripping pussy in the furthest part of the library, or school basement.

whew! as someone without a daddy kink i hope i did it justice; as the writer i must uphold the truth, irrespective of my daddy-kink-averse nature. hope u enjoyed!

tags, bc i think u might like some more eddie (but idk so contact if u're sick of me lmao):

@enamorededdie @spicedchaiandromeda @stargirlfics @kelsiejayy @anythingjimhopper @goodboyriddler @spideyheartsmaryjane-blog @anisbaby @princesssmimi @thedanoriddler @lost-in-sokovia @killerlookz @kelsiejayy @mypoisonedvine @creme-bruhlee @spilledkauffie @kaylawritesfics @inklore @babybugwrites @littlepadika @underratedcharactersimagines @becca-e-barnes @callsign-rogueone @wishilovedyouinthe80s @jaiheats @freshfleshandblood @axen-gers @c0untryclub @wingedjellyfishrebel

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington smut #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x reader #steve harrington x reader #cuethequestions #cuethediscoandthedrinks #cuethedisco #discomusings🥂#discosmut

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latenightsimping · 1 year

Text

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff, there will be a happy ending

AN: Chapter three is finally here! Many thanks to my lovely boyfriend @mantorokk-writes for test reading and making the header, I'm forever in love with you <3 This series is gonna be a slow work in progress, but thank you for reading so far! Really excited to see where it's gonna go, and how we're gonna get these two out of this pickle. Enjoy!

Taglist: @edsforehead, @idkidknemore, @harrys-tittie, @gaysludge, @smileygoth

A congealed lump of what was apparently mac and cheese, boiled to death vegetables and bitter orange juice. Eddie had become used to shit food long ago, thanks to a lifetime of only buying the cheapest non-brand groceries to try and save costs. But this… This was something else. Fuck, he was surprised it even passed the mark for being fit for human consumption. It reminded him of the stories his old man used to tell about prison food, about how the trick was to eat it without thinking too much, barely savouring the taste before you swallowed. The similarity getting stuck in his throat.

But at least he wasn’t eating his meals in silence anymore. With you sitting opposite him, filling any dead air with talking about the hospital gossip, though he’d given up on trying to follow along after the first apparent affair taking place. But the content didn’t matter. For the first time in so long, maybe even longer than he realised, you had offered him a seat to get out of trouble with no motive behind the action. Had given him his own pack of cigarettes after swindling one from an orderly just before lunch started, the one that seemed to stare at your chest more than your eyes, putting yourself at risk for no gain of your own. It was exceedingly rare to find people that would do something out of the goodness of their hearts, and the question was rattling around his head with such a velocity that it tumbled from his lips before he even realised.

“Why are you doing this?”

Even he internally winced at the lack of warmth in his tone, making it sound more like an accusation than a question. But if it offended you, you didn’t act as if it bothered you. Instead, the corners of your lips twitched upwards, eyes drifting from your tray to his own as you tilted your head.

“What’dya mean?”

Giving himself a few needed seconds to reframe the words in his head with taking a sip of his drink, he swirled the contents of the paper cup, deciding to stare down into it rather than look up. “I mean, why are you helping me? You don’t know me.”

From the very quick glance upwards he chanced, there seemed to be something there that was bittersweet. Eyes slightly widened, mouth downturned, yet an ever so slight huff of a laugh as you balled up a serviette in your hands. “Trust me, I know how it feels to be the new guy on the wing. The way the others look at you like you’re a fuckin’ chew toy?”

He’d noticed the way the other patients stared, when the steel door behind him slammed shut. Some didn’t even look over, too caught up in their own internal world. But there’s a certain feeling that can overcome a person when they’re accustomed to having to be on high alert at all times. A certain flash of the eyes that makes your stomach churn, blood pooling to your feet and your mind telling you to run. You studied his face for a moment, a sympathetic smile briefly twitching at your lips.

“I had someone look out for me too, when I first got here,” you explained, the paper in your hand now being twisted and toyed with as you spoke. “She uh… Her name was Patty. She was this take no shit kinda woman. Taught me the best way to curb the hunger was smoking cigarettes, which orderlies would give pretty girls special treatment, which patients to never go near. That sorta useful shit.”

Though you smiled, it didn’t reach your downcast eyes. “She got sick last year. Didn’t say much about it, but it took a toll on her. It finally got her a couple of months back. And you know what the worst thing was about it?”

Plenty of what you were saying was ‘the worst thing’. Being caught on the wrong side of a power dynamic, having to go hungry because nobody cared, patients having to be caregivers because God forbid those that actually got paid to do it actually did their fucking jobs for once. All of those answers dying on his tongue, replaced with a slow shake of his head.

“Nobody came to see her in the end,” you muttered, brows furrowing as your voice cracked. “She told me she had a son, told me the doctors called him and told him, but he never came. I get it, I mean, not many of us have the luxury of seeing people from the outside… But she was on her fucking deathbed, y’know?”

When your eyes finally met his, glossy with unshed tears that you seemed so determined to never let overspill, there was a look to you that made all the pieces click together. Made the parts of him that he’d kept buried away for self preservation start to rise back to the surface. Taking a firm grasp of his heart and squeezing for good measure.

The look of pure fear.

The fear that one day, both of you would end up like Patty. Untethered to the world outside, cast adrift with the other lost souls. Taking the last few rattled breaths with nobody around to hear them, looking up to the sky and the view still blocked with bars. Nobody with spare change for the ferryman, forever stuck.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say, no other words seeming quite right. The tone as hollow as he felt, as shaky as the tremors in his hands that never quite seemed to go away. All he could think to say, but the truth. He was sorry you were here, if your proclaimed innocence was to be believed. He was sorry for himself too, deep down.

“It’s whatever,” you replied, clearing your throat as you tried and failed to staple the look of nonchalance back on your face with a half decent result. “Anyway, don’t worry about your first therapy session, alright? I got it covered.”

He shot you a small look of incredulity, head tilted to the side as he followed your lead in piling used napkins and cutlery onto his meal tray. “What’dya mean?”

The smile you gave him next was finally a genuine one, a glimmer in your eye that could only mean mischief.

“You’ll see.”

You could see the stress levels that you tried so desperately to lower over lunch to begin raising as you and Eddie filed into the day room for group therapy. How his jaw clenched so hard you were surprised he didn’t break enamel, a shortening fuse near a naked flame as he took his seat next to you. Leg bouncing with beats akin to a hummingbird’s heart, chewing at the skin around his ruined nails with eyesight dancing around the room to end up on the tile right in front of him. You couldn’t blame him; he was walking into the unknown, with no idea where the hell he would end up. You remembered the feeling well.

Others clad in the same off white uniform as you took their respective seats around you, the energy in the room a palpable, frantic buzz. Nerves, apathy, distaste and mocking. You could feel it all, see it in the faces around you that you’d come to know in the years that you’d been imprisoned. Small naked flames, that could be as harmless as a match or as intense as thermite. The day could go either way. And it would depend on the questions posed to them.

Dr. Madden made his way through the doors, adjusting the thick horned rimmed glasses that permanently perched on his beak-like nose as he took his seat. You’d never liked him; he was nosy, even for a psychiatrist, always putting two and two together to end up with an equation that made no fucking sense. Nothing could ever be simple, in his eyes. Someone’s violent outburst had some convoluted reasoning to do with Daddy issues and not being hugged enough as a child, rather than someone just needing a fucking cigarette and not being given one. It took everything within you not to roll your eyes into the back of your skull as he cleared his throat to begin.

“Good afternoon everyone,” he began, eyes settling over each patient for a brief second before focusing on Eddie. “We’re welcoming a new person into the wing today. Have you had any sort of therapy like this before, Mr. Munson?”

Eddie’s reply was a brief shake of his head, glance not leaving the cracks of the floor as he fiddled with the split ends of his hair. Madden’s bushy eyebrow raised a fraction as he sat himself slightly forward. “Well, we start with a brief check in. How we’re feeling, what we’d like to talk about in today’s session. Perhaps you could start us off? You seem nervous today.”

You couldn’t hold back a scoff, the psychiatrist’s beady eyes narrowing on you as you fished through your pockets for your pack of cigarettes. The look on his face evident that he wasn’t amused at your perceived insolence to his ‘therapeutic process’. He could shove that process where the sun didn’t shine, as far as you were concerned.

“He’s a newbie, of course he’s gonna be nervous,” you shrugged, waving over an orderly with a lighter, who seemed to be watching you with ever so slight trepidation as he ignited the flame that you used to puff life into your cigarette. Huffing out an exhale of smoke that was aimed in his direction. “Bit of a redundant question, isn’t it?”

Madden was a tough nut to crack, but you’d managed to get the veins in his neck bulging a couple of times. You just needed to know which buttons to press, and it seemed you hit one with a jab to his reasoning. “I don’t find it redundant at all,” he answered with a smile slightly too smug for your liking. “But if you think that an example of a check in could help, maybe you could go first instead?”

You took a sharp inhale as you gave a grimace of indifference, face scrunched up as you jerked your head towards an older lady that seemed on the edge of her seat to talk. “Why don’t you get Miriam to do it? From what I remember, she was just starting to open up about her fucker of an ex husband.”

Was using another patient’s anger, something you knew got them started into an hour long tangent until they were red in the face unethical? Maybe. But it was every man for himself out here, and you didn’t have anything akin to backup in the process. As expected, the woman launched into a tirade, screechings which contained the words “useless bastard” and “should have divorced him before he did it to me!” melding into the background as you shot a smug smirk in Madden’s direction. To his credit, he was hiding his distaste well, his only giveaway the slight flush creeping above his collar.

For most of the session, you managed to evade the heat from coming towards you and Eddie. A few more prods to Miriam, staying silent when the psychiatrist asked if anyone else had anything to add. A question to old man Hardy about the house he got kicked out from before being transferred, each person being used like a shield to hide from the questions you knew Madden had for you. You knew you were fucked from the moment he put his hand up to cut off Duane about his teenage trauma prematurely, eyes fixed on you as he sat back in his chair.

“Does Duane’s story resonate with you?” he asked with a heightened pitch of voice, head slightly tilted as his lips twitched upwards. It caused your back to straighten, knowing full well where he was going with this. Somewhere you swore never to go back to, ever since the nightmares ever so slightly decreased and the flashing images weren’t permanently burned into the back of your eyelids.

“No.”

The words reverberated around clenched teeth, knuckles turned white as you gripped the cracked pleather of the cushion you sat on. Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Eddie staring at you with a slight questioning to his glance, and it made your gut twist even more. You hated how suddenly the tentative power dynamic had switched. How your already lacking control was going to spiral even further, if Madden willed it.

“I think it might, though,” the good doctor continued, the slight smirk being poorly hidden as his head tilted to the side. “You had a lot happen when you were eighteen, didn’t you? When you made the choice to-”

“I’m not going to talk about it,” you snapped back, folding your arms as a poorly constructed buffer between you and the man opposite. Your eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, a slight ease of tension as you realised the time. “Not with only five minutes left of the session.”

“But you’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later,” he countered, daring to look slightly sympathetic as he regarded you. “You’ve been here two years, and you’ve never talked about that night. It doesn’t show much progress, now does it?”

You wanted to stand up, pick up your chair, and crash it over the top of his head. How the fuck would he know what ‘progress’ you’d been making? How much work you’d had to put into yourself, rationalising and justifying everything about the night that changed the path of your life, so much that you probably could never step foot on the original trail if you tried. How you still tortured yourself with what you could have done differently, the actions that you did take haunting you like spectres? Madden knew nothing of how often you’d dragged yourself off the precipice time and time again, nothing but bloody fingernails and a quickly ebbing will to live, as you weighed up the decisions of falling asleep to never wake up again against staying alive to do everything in your power to clear the stain on your name.

To Madden’s credit, he didn’t push further. Letting the silence hang in the air, perhaps a non-verbal push that might get you talking. It might have worked, once upon a time. When you had no secrets to hide, too worried about what others thought, wanting to please people so much that it deprived you of happiness. But that was before you were branded a psycho, tossed into this place with the key thrown away. Now, you couldn’t give a shit about what others thought.

Except, there was a way your stomach dropped when you looked over to see the way Eddie looked at you. Not with disgust or horror, which you were used to by now. There was slight concern in his eyes, mixed with empathy, the combination making you want to squirm in your seat. You didn’t even know each other, yet his humanity seemed to still be intact for now, seeing another person clearly struggling and not being able to do anything about it.

You decided to stare at the clock on the wall for the rest of the session, filtering out all other noises and focusing on watching the minute hand strike closer and closer until time was up.

As you put away chairs, you expected Eddie to ask you about it. Maybe try to pry, or get answers for questions that could be in his own mind. But he didn’t. He stayed silent as you both wandered back to the table you met at, sitting down with him wordlessly reaching for the deck of cards in the middle and starting to shuffle. And silent you stayed. Going through the motions of a routine you knew too well; free time, ‘music’ therapy - as if listening to the same vinyl of Bach twice a week for two years would do anything other than make you want to smash your head against the chipped white walls. Dinner consisting of a brick of so-called ‘meatloaf’ that you knew well enough to avoid even attempting to eat, settling for tasteless vegetables and vaguely lime flavoured Jell-o instead.

Even silent when the orderly Nguyen told you to haul ass to the laundry room for work placement, and to take your new ‘friend’ with you. You were brought out of the routine of folding sheets when you heard Eddie clear his throat, looking up to see him slightly rattled as he sorted various clothing into separate piles.

“Hey uh… You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna, but… Thanks. For today.” You saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards, a ghost of a smile as his eyeline landed on the messy stack of undershirts. “Didn’t have to stick your neck out of me, but you did. Appreciate it.”

You mustered the leftover social energy you had to lift your shoulders into a slight shrug, rubbing the back of your head whilst the other hand took your weight as you leaned slightly on the table. “It’s nothing. Sorry for not being so talkative I just… Still don’t wanna talk about why I’m here, y’know?”

A curt nod was his reply at first, lips a narrow line and eyes darting around as if he was thinking hard about something. Finally glancing towards the door, then around the room, as if to make double sure that what he was about to say wouldn’t be overheard. He looked panicked; either a deer in the headlights or a lion ready to defend itself, you weren’t sure.

“They said I killed people.”

It was so quiet you barely picked up on it, and you had to admit, it took you aback. There was an initial flight or flight reaction that doused your autonomic system, as if his words set off a red light in your head and you had to start looking for an improvised weapon. However, that was pure instinct, only for a second before logic took over. For someone who was apparently a killer, he certainly did look hollow about it all. Besides. Those in glass houses…

“Did you do it?” you mumbled back, eyes leaving his to take the pressure of both of you, hands busying themselves with folding the now grey sheet in front of you, toying with the frayed corner to try and conceal it in the fold somehow.

“No.”

You found yourself at a precipice. He had stuck his neck out to tell you his charge, not knowing if you’d stick around or bolt and leave him on his own again. It was a sign of trust; an olive branch, that you could either accept or leave hanging between you. You had only known Eddie a day. Less than that, maybe seven hours, tops. But so far, he seemed to have his wits about him. He didn’t strike you as the judgemental type. He didn’t pry, and he tried to distract you when you were at your lowest, instead of offering useless advice or forcing you to open up. When you looked up at him, there was no hint of deceit that you could tell. He was staring at you with those intense eyes of his, an expression reading both ‘I’m telling the truth’ and ‘dear God, I hope you fucking believe me’.

For so long, you had wanted reinforcements in this place so badly. To not fight alone, to have backup. In the outside world, no way would you trust someone this fast. But this was Pennhearst. A place with different rule sets. You needed to take the help wherever it came from, and hope it didn’t blow back in your face later.

You needed to give him something in return.

You didn’t falter with eye contact as you said the words you thought you’d never say. The words that made your stomach churn, made you want to flinch as you said them. “They said I killed people, too.”

You saw the look on his face to be one of bewilderment, eyes scanning you up and down as if he’d never seen you before. You wondered if that’s what you’d looked like not five seconds ago, mirroring each other as you confessed your sins. “Did you do it?”

“No.”

The crease between his eyebrows seemed to smooth, after what felt like hours of staring at each other, the only other sounds the rhythmic knocking of the decrepit industrial dryers. It was you who finally broke the silence, busying yourself again with grabbing the pile of undershirts near you by the bottom and pulling it towards you to begin folding. “I don’t expect you to believe me. And if you don’t want me to know about what happened, I’m not gonna push it.” You shook your head as you frowned at the fabric in your hands.

“Why do you believe me? When I say I didn’t do it?”

You glanced back up at him to find a worried expression on his face, staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe you. As if it was too good to be true, to finally be believed. You wracked your brain for an answer, only to shrug and say the first thing on your mind. “Because guilty people don’t look so frightened of their consequences. I suppose on a subconscious level, they know they deserve the hell they created for themselves.”

You heard a sound which you figured to be a sharp exhale of air through his nose, most likely an attempt at a wry laugh. “You don’t look frightened.”

Your lips turned downward as you frowned again. “You get good at hiding it after a while, I guess.”

You heard your name being called, so softly that your heart nearly shattered. Not your last name being barked out with disdain, or in a patronising tone like a shrink would. It was said like somebody actually gave a shit. You looked up to be met with a look that was one of genuine concern, his eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted as if he was wondering what to say.

It was getting too intense for your liking.

Shaking your head as you cleared your throat, you flashed a tight smile as your folding became hurried. “Finish that pile quick, yeah? Orderlies hit the roof when you don’t finish your chores on time.”

To his credit, Eddie didn’t push it. The rest of the time being filled with small talk and comfortable silences, until your names were called to be taken back to your room for the night. The motions of getting ready to bed had become mechanical a long time ago, on autopilot as you brushed your teeth and changed clothes. Hearing the call for lights out, and getting plunged into darkness against your will. You knew that first checks were in an hour.

You had sixty minutes to cry to yourself about finally being seen, about not being treated like a criminal that deserved the way you were being treated. Hugging the pillow to your face and willing yourself not to be making a sound, clutching the cheap cotton between your fingers as if your life depended on it. Sixty minutes until you needed to shove the emotions back down, and face tomorrow, same as you always did.

Same as you always did, but at least you had someone on your side.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #eddie munson self insert #stranger things self insert

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therosebunpost · 1 year

Text

Morning spicy idea!

MDI please! I'm 100% serious about this. I'm not responsible for your media consumption and this content is 100% meant for people 18 years or older, so please don't interact if you are not that age!! Please.

Just to add, all characters mentioned are 18+!

----

Now with that out of the way, onto the fun stuff!

Eddie and Steve with a love for the domestic-

Like hear me out. They were both deprived of that growning up, I think. Eddie with his turbulent home life and Steve with his Latchkey home life. So the whole idea of a happy, warm home with their partner just does something for them.

Spicy addition here:

They love seeing you dressed up, of course, but I think the sexiest thing is seeing you at your most comfortable. I'm talking baggy shirt, wild hair, no makeup kinda comfortable.

For Eddie, I think he just likes the realness of it, you know? He adores the work you put into your appearance, and he'll be the first to praise it, but he can't help but get all worked up over you being your real self around him. You could be sitting in the most unflattering pose, crunching down on a bag of chips, makeup all messy from the night before, and he'll just come up to you like "Your so hot babe, please, I need you right now-"

Now Steve is a similar way, but for him it's all that trust, you know? I think out of anyone, he knows how much appearance can be important for someone, especially in front of their partner. So I imagine you sharing this most intimate, real part of yourself with him would be so important to him. He just gets feral for it, especially if he walks into a room and your doing something simple like chores or cooking, or just making a home together while looking like that. He just has to come up behind you, mumbling about needing you so badly.

#thebunspeaks #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #fluffybunnycorner #steve harrington x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things hc #rosepetaltrail

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rogue-durin-16 · 2 years

Text

LIAR. TRAITOR. BACKSTABBER.

Request: Plot bunny. Female!Reader is an undercover agent working in a case against Eddie. She's fallen for him but he just found out the truth.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Requested by: @attinaadellaalana

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, allusions to sex, smoking

A/N: I uhhh apologize in advance. I wrote this while I was sleep deprived so technically it's not completely on me. MIGHT write a part 2 if it hurts too much. Anyways, enjoy (?) <3

Edit: it's done.

Sequel: but years pass and I love you the same (I/II) (II/II)

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Are you sure you have to go?" Eddie's head propped up from the pillows with the sole purpose of me hearing his husky whines all the way from the bathroom.

"I mean," I paused to spit the toothpaste on the sink. "If I wanna keep my job, I gotta show up, don't you think?" I peeked out of the bathroom door to see Eddie still in bed. "Plus, if I'm late again, my boss will ask for my head."

"Ugh." A smile of endearment escaped my lips when Eddie buried his head back into the cushioning in defeat. "I hate your boss."

"Really? I didn't notice." I teased, trotting to his room to grab my jacket and plant a kiss on top of his crown. "Don't go to sleep again, alright?" He hummed affirmatively in response.

As I ran to the living room to grab my backpack, I heard the mattress squeak. Better get out before Eddie got to the couch, or else he would drag me with him; I couldn't leave without the backpack.

Where was the damn backpack?

"Y/n! Hold on," Eddie was walking down the short hall, the bag's strap on his hand and...the zipper was unfastened. I had left it fucking open.

I prayed for him to be still in a somewhat lethargic state due to the early hours, and not think about looking inside.

"You forgot your..." His voice died down, a confused frown bringing his brows together when his eye briefly flickered down to the contents of the bag. "Wha— what's this?" His feet halted close enough for me to see the cogs turning in his mind, yet too far away for me to subtly snatch the bag out of his grasp.

"Uh, nothing, it's just—" My heart stopped beating when he used both his hands to open the backpack further, tilting the inside to the window to get a better view with the sunlight's help. "y'know, work stuff."

That was my first mistake. Eddie's attention left my bag for a moment so he could shoot me a baffled look. "Work stuff. Y'know, I'd be kinda concerned if this was work stuff." He shook the backpack in my direction before resuming his investigation. "is this a mic? Y/n." Eddie kneeled down to thoroughly check whatever 'work stuff' meant, giving me a suspicious side eye as he did so. "What's this for?"

"Work."

"Stop lying!" He urged, distractedly pulling on the wires taped on the lining.

"I'm not lying!" And I wasn't. That was the problem.

"Why would you need this at work, Y/n?!" He desperately shook the bundle of sends and the recorder attached to it at me. And then, as it all started to visibly click for him, he lowered it to his lap, gaze lost while he connected the dots. "Who do you work for?"

"I— where's this coming from?"

"Answer my question."

"We literally met when I started working at Hawkins High counseling department." I gulped at the slow turning of his head, his brown eyes darkening with something I couldn't quite decipher. "Eddie, I swear this is work stuff, I just can't tell you 'cause of the whole confidential thing."

Silence.

"You think I'm stupid?" He inquired in a low, offended tone with squinted eyes.

"I think you're being paranoid."

"Am I?" He huffed, letting his hand dive deep into the bag. "Am I being paranoid?"

"Yes! Yes you are!" I would have doubled down as many times as I had to for him to, at the very least, drop the topic, but Eddie was relentless.

"You're gonna have to cut me some slack, alright sweetheart?" He spoke like he was desperately trying to stay calm on the outside while a thousand emotions cut through his insides. "I think I earned it, y'know?" He jumped up from the floor to stalk into the kitchen, and I had to fight the urge to throw my lighter into the damn bag. "After going through all that fucking... bullshit last month." He came back to his previous spot with a knife.

"What are you doing?"

"Being paranoid, apparently." He patted the bottom of the backpack until he found what he was looking for. Trapping his tongue between his lips, he took a hold of the fabric and ripped it with the blade.

"Eddie, stop." I finally gave in to the panic of him finding out about what my job really was, and kneeled in front of him, my hands scrambling to get a hold of his before he could pull what rested between the lining and the cover of the bag.

"Like hell I'm gonna stop." He limited himself to respond, pulling the first casette he could get and putting distance between us. "Why the fuck is this inside the lining, Y/n?"

"Wait!" before I could do anything, he took off to his bedroom with the tape. By the time I reached him, the recording was already on his walkman, being played through his headphones. "Shit."

I was torn between approaching him, sat on the floor with his back against the side of his mattress, or staying still at the doorframe.

Seeing the way his face turned livid at what he was listening, I came to the conclusion that the latter was the smartest option.

Time and schedule long forgotten, I quietly waited for Eddie to take off the headphones; for my stammering heart, that felt like forever, but soon enough he was pausing the recording, the click of the button putting me under cardiac arrest.

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, eyes falling on the portable music player resting on his crosslegged lap. When he looked up at me, I saw a couple of rogue tears escaping his watery gaze and rolling down his cheeks that felt like a punch to my stomach.

We stayed like that for a hot minute, until Eddie decided it was time to get up. He tossed the walkman to his bed with the cassette still in it, and moved to stand in front of me with folded arms, his eyes never meeting mine.

"The government sending someone to keep an eye on Hawkins, it wasn't a rumor, was it?" His voice was quiet, so obviously doing his best not to break down in front of me while he put the pieces together. "They were just looking in the wrong fucking place for you." The last word of the sentence was spit out with disgust, as if I was some kind of monster. "It actually makes so much sense, cause why would you fucking infiltrate the PD if you were chasing high schoolers."

"I wasn't chasing anyone."

"You were chasing me!" He shouted, pointing at the walkman.

"Let me explain. Please."

"Can't believe Harrington called it." His words were accompanied by a bitter laugh, both muffled by his palms rubbing his face. "He told us something about you was off and we just fucking ignored him."

"Eddie."

"Said you knew too much, that your reaction to the upside down bullshit was too casual."

"Please just let me explain."

"And I stood up for you! Goddamnit! I can't fucking believe I fell for it." He shook his head, feet pacing before me in the tiny room. "I trust no one. No one! And for once, I choose to trust— to-to open up to a person, and that person it's you and you're—" His voice creaked, lower lip quivering at the mere sight of me. "You're fucking heartless, you know that, Y/n? Is that even your real name?"

"Yes, Eddie, that's my fucking name, alright?!" His frantic steps stopped when I raised my voice. I knew what he was thinking; I had no right to get upset —and he was right—, but the thought of losing him was overwhelming at the very least. "Eddie, please." I brought my palms together to my lips in a pleading manner, searching for those chocolate eyes that were so adamant about evading mine. "I wanna explain. I need you to listen to me now, okay? After that you can—"

He shook his head in the negative, screwing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw. "Leave."

Though I'm sure he intended for it to come out assertive and cold, it sounded fragile and hurt, which was a hundred times worse.

"Eddie."

Finally opening his bloodshot eyes again, he took a step forward, grabbed my bicep and dragged me to the front door, picking the ruined backpack on his way and shoving it into my hands. "I don't wanna see you ever again." He hissed, accusing finger before my face before he shut the door on my nose.

A part of me knew that day would come and tried to prepare me for it, but for some reason, it didn't sink in. Not until I was back in my motel room.

Only when I sat down on the musty bed, only then, I realized that I had lost Eddie to nothing. To nothing. Just a reckless mistake. It wasn't as if I was still working on his case, but I had forgotten to remove the useless tapes from the goddamn lining.

After checking the cassettes, I came to the conclusion that Eddie, ironically, had picked the one that could have actually been of use; the one incriminating not only him but Steve, Dustin, Max and Robin.

I cried my eyes out for the whole night until it mushed into daylight, and then I had no tears left to shed.

Robin called two days after, asking if everything was alright. Steve reluctantly drove her to the motel, which made me suspect Eddie hadn't shared the information he had acquired.

That scared me for so many reasons.

It didn't surprise me, though. It was Eddie after all, and Eddie would have never given me away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

EDDIE'S P. O. V.

The phone kept ringing every now and then. I never picked up, fearing it would be her or... Some other agent, or the military, or those weird guys involved with the Upside Down shit. And why would the give me a call? Well, God knows, but I wasn't going to take any risks —even after having my name cleared by the one and only declared dead former chief of Hawkins PD, Jim Hopper.

Truth is, it was just Dustin checking in. Sometimes Jeff. Robin and Steve too. Hell, even Max had attempted to cross the few yards between her home and my new trailer.

I never opened the door.

I never even left the house —I didn't need to, either. My uncle would resupply our fridge. He assumed I had chosen to stay in due to the amount of hicks harassing me in the streets.

He asked once why Y/n wasn't visiting anymore. At my silence, he probably came to the conclusion that we had broken up, which was technically right, but there was more to it— I just couldn't tell him.

I couldn't tell anyone.

Curiosity was killing me. Not about what she had been doing; that was pretty obvious, no, I was curious about what the fuck she had to explain to me. The mystery was eating me alive, gnawing on my brain. It physically itched.

That's why, after who knows how many weeks and how many beers and how much weed, I found myself driving to that fucking motel. Yeah, that's how I found myself banging on her door, strong enough to wake up everyone stationed in those shitty rooms.

She opened the door with a gun in hand, and I didn't fucking care.

First things first, I thought to myself, throwing full force at her chest the cassette tape that had remained at my place during the time apart. Every single sentence in it had been carved in my gray matter from all the times I had played it.

I took her shock as an advantage to move her out of the way and enter the room, slamming the door closed once I was inside.

Y/n so obviously didn't know what to do with herself. I didn't, either.

"Explain." I simply ordered, my voice croaked from the lack of use in the past... Three weeks? A month? Maybe more— what day was it? "Explain it to me right now so I can move the fuck on."

"Eddie..." Her voice was as soft as ever while with slow, careful movements, she left the gun on top of a drawer, her eyes roaming my frame with sympathy and concern.

I had to look away to prevent myself from crying again. As I turned my head to the side, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror; saying I looked like a corpse would be an understatement.

Great, I was crying. Again. I angrily wiped my tears away, leaving my cheeks blotchy due to the harshness.

A part of me wished Y/n would ground me just like she used to. A tiny, minuscule part of me ached for the comfort of her palms cradling my cheeks, placing my forehead on hers so I would look into her soft eyes while she assured me everything would be okay.

She knew the outcome of that would be either me recoiling like a wounded animal, or her being thrown somewhere in the room as if she was a hazard to my safety.

In all fairness, she had been. She probably still was. Yet, there I stood, in her stupid room waiting for her to coat me in poorly crafted lies that I would believe because I loved her.

"Have you been sleeping?" Her voice was surprisingly calm, just like her demeanor after the initial surprise. Now it was obvious to me why she was so good at handling tense or dangerous situations while staying calm and collected.

Liar. Traitor. Backstabber. I hated her. I hated the way she was soothing me just with her presence.

"Who fucking cares," I spat in a high-pitched tone, eyes squinted and blurry as I tried to convey the pain and anger I felt. "I just want you to explain."

There was hesitation in her eyes before she turned her back to me to walk into the bathroom. "Sit down, please." She commanded, turning on the faucet and filling up a glass with it.

I sat down on the mattress. Why did my body have to listen to her so easily?

In a matter of seconds, she was back in the bedroom, extending her arm to place the glass of water on the nightstand behind me instead of handing it to me.

With a sigh, Y/n made her way to a chair by a desk in the corner of the room and dragged it until it was in front of me. "I can't get into details, alright?" She began, taking a seat to be face to face with me. "But I need you to understand that it's for your safety."

"My safety." I scoffed, a bitter smile tugging up my lips. "As if you give a fuck about me."

"I do." Y/n was refusing to match my pent up anger, and it was driving me crazy. "The guys I work for, they've been on the doctor's tail for a while."

"What doctor?"

"He ran the experiments in Hawkins Lab." Y/n paused while I took a sip of the water she had brought me. "After the whole... Fiasco at the Starcourt mall, My... Boss figured the best way to keep an eye on Hawkins was to have someone in the field." Eye contact never faltered on her part. I couldn't say the same about me. "I was perfect for that. Newcomer, overachiever, young. They knew there were kids involved so—"

"So they sent you to Hawkins High?" She nodded. "You used me to get to Dustin didn't you?"

Y/n shook her head in the negative, rubbing her hands together. "Dustin wasn't even under the scope. Finding out he was one of the kids was just dumb luck."

She was getting anxious, which made my heart stammer while I asked the inquiry she so obviously didn't want to hear. "Who was under rhe scope then?"

There was a sorry, pained look on her as she tilted her head to the side. "You were. You, Nancy and Steve. Jonathan Byers too, but he's not here anymore."

"Why us."

"I can't tell you."

"Y/n."

"I. Can't. Tell you." She accompanied every word with a slap on her thigh.

Silence.

"Are you still working for them?" Nod. More silence. I drew in a sharp breath, gathering up the courage to question her further. "Is that why you were still fucking me?"

"What?" In her outraged, baffled face, a sentence could be clearly read; 'Is that what we came down to?' I felt shame just by looking at her.

"Just answer the question, alright?"

"How do I even answer that?" Tears prickled my eyes once more. It was the lack of sleep, or the weed, or the dust in the room; it was most definitely not the hurt in her voice. "Listen, this" she motioned back and forth between her and me. "wasn't supposed to happen. Officially, this didn't happen, okay?"

"Then why were you fucking me?"

"Eddie! Stop wording it like that!" She snapped, shooting up from the chair and consequently making me flinch. "We were dating! You asked me out and I said yes! It wasn't a part of the fucking case! You think I wouldn't have been able to get those recordings without us being that close?!"

"Great," I retorted, standing up too. "so you were just doing it for fun then!"

"I WAS DOING IT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

My breath got caught up in my throat, but that didn't stop Y/n. She was mad now, and, much like me, she needed to let some things out.

"I almost fucked up the entire operation because of you!" Her index finger made contact with my chest for a second, leaving my skin burning underneath the thin shirt I wore. "'Cause I'm there, tryna do my job, and one day you come into Ms. Kelley's office and you're SO FUCKING ANNOYING" Y/n rubbed her temples with gritted teeth at the memory. "but you got the prettiest smile, and I think, 'hey, getting a bit closer won't hurt' AND YOU DREW ME IN LIKE-LIKE A MOTH TO THE LIGHT!" She seethed, violently rubbing her face with both her hands. "This wasn't a twisted scheme to frame you for another fucking crime! I just happened to be stupid enough to fall for someone I was investigating!"

Y/n took a deep breath and waited. She waited for some kind of response on my part, and the only thing I could give her was a swift shake of my head.

"I didn't come all the way here for you to tell me some corny, cheap lie." I could barely hear my voice over the thrumming of my heart. She was lying. She was a liar; it made more sense for her to be lying, because why would she love me.

She was taken aback by my hostile reply, so taken aback that a hot minute passed before she reacted to it.

I didn't understand what she was doing, only seeing her go to the left side of the bed, kneel down and pull a suitcase from underneath. She frantically shuffled around the contents of it, muttering curses whilst pulling out a manila folder.

"Sit down." Her tone was harsh, severe; nothing further from the same soft request from earlier. This time, it took me a second too long to comply, which led to Y/n pushing me back to the bed. The manila folder collided with my face just when my ass landed on the mattress. "There goes your fucking lie."

We made eye contact for a second. Her eyes were puffy and welled up; it felt wrong to see her like that, so I looked down, focusing on the documents laying on my lap. She stalked out of the room before I could even open it.

Inside, there were at least a dozen papers. Most of its content had been crossed out with black sharpie. My full name and personal data, along with a picture of my face, still adorned the front page. The big red stamp that said 'RULE-OUT' over it was difficult to miss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

A cool breeze outside the motel dried the hot tears running down my cheeks while I lit my second cigarette. My forearms rested on the rusted second floor's railing, gaze scanning the darkness of the Hawkins woods while I waited for Eddie to leave the room.

He had been in there for a good while now. Taking a shaky puff out of the cigarette, I wondered if he had decided to go through the rest of the files. I also wondered why I didn't care if he did.

The door behind me creaked open, dim yellow light slipping out of it. Eddie's fingers trembled when he braced himself on the railing by my side. He either didn't know what to say, or didn't know how to.

"I haven't slept either, you know?" I commented, surprising myself at how numb yet broken I sounded. "Not properly, anyway."

"I didn't tell anyone." He whispered, his voice dangerously similar to mine.

"I know." My gaze drifted from the forest before us to his hands. Had I not know better, I would have said he ached to hold me just as much as I did to hold him. "I miss you."

Silence.

"I don't know how to come back from this." He confessed, fear and fragility very much present in his usually overconfident pitch.

We crossed glances, equally watery and sad. After an instant of pondering, I confessed, "Me neither."

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water a couple of times before our irises broke away once more. There was so much left unsaid on both sides, yet it felt like nothing we could say would change the outcome.

So, instead of talking, we just stayed there, crying in silence by each other's side, sneaking wistful glances at one another until the late night turned into early morning and the Sun began to rise.

Then, as if by mutual accord, we peeled ourselves off the railing, and yet another charged silence accompanied our longing stares. There were no half smiles, no jokes, no goodbyes, nothing.

I took a hesitant step forward, not quite knowing what my intentions were. It didn't matter, though; I couldn't get far before Eddie's arms engulfed me in the tightest hug we had shared.

The boy held onto my tired frame for dear life, burying his face on the crook of my neck while he pulled me flush against him; I did the same.

"You're the best thing that happened to me in a long time." He blurted out, words barely audible vibrating against my exposed skin, triggering a loud sob out of me. "I need you to know that." He was soon pulling away, not before planting a firm kiss on my temple.

Eddie didn't dare to spare me a glance as he stepped back, face casted down and shoulders shaking, and did a 180 in order to make his way to the motel stairs.

I saw him rush to his van, hands first shoved deep in his pockets and then wiping his face each couple of seconds. He fidgeted with his keys for a moment, struggling to open the vehicle, and once inside, it took him a few minutes to drive off.

I imagined myself running down the stairs and tapping on the passenger's window like I had done in the past.

Instead, I just stood there and watched him drive off before lighting yet another cigarette.

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